


Rescue

by honeybunny101



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Identity Issues, Insomnia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Student Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybunny101/pseuds/honeybunny101
Summary: Steve Rogers, 33 year-old war vet with a serious hero-complex, meets Bucky Barnes, 20-year old college student on a random night, injured. Steve wants to help him, but which one of them really needs rescuing?





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist Steve's hero-complex, so this happened. Enjoy!

How does one become a hero? Do you have to rescue people from burning buildings to become one? Do you join a non-profit organization to help starving kids in Africa? Do you change the law to protect those who are not well-represented? Do you have to save a whole nation from a civil war? Do you support a scientific research for a universal cure for cancer? Win a Nobel Peace Prize? Find a solution for wars and conflict? Discover the cure for AIDS? Be part of a movement for human rights? Fight colonizing aliens who tries to take over the world? And does being a hero have to be saving the entire human race? What about saving one life from imminent death? Does that count?

 

This is a story about one man named Steve Rogers, who wants to become a hero.

 

Steve was 5 years old when he made a declaration that he wanted to become a hero when he grew up. His mom, Sarah, read him bedtime stories about Hercules, adventures of Bilbo Baggins and eventually his grandson Frodo and his favorite, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. His mother told him he could be whatever he wanted to be and naturally, he chose to be a hero, rescue princesses from dragons and overthrow evil witches and slay monsters.

 

He learned early enough to realize that he couldn’t possibly slay a dragon because he was too small and he didn’t have a sword that was sharp enough to pierce through their scaly body. That didn’t stop him from venturing out to the woods carrying his baseball bat hoping it was enough to drive off any dragons that went his way. He’d mentioned his dragon hunting to his friends on school and got laughed at for his trouble.

 

“Dragons aren’t real, stupid!” one of the bullies, Grant, snickered at him.

 

He’d asked his mom about it when he got home and Sarah had looked at him sadly, confirming that no, dragons, in fact, did not exist and so did all the monsters from his books about hobbits and magic. The disappointment he felt at the face of the truth had been staggering but he realized another thing at the same time.

 

“So does that mean, nobody is in danger from evil witches or sorcerers?” He asked hopefully and his mother smiled at him which was confirmation enough.

 

The disappointment was replaced by relief at the revelation and the fact that magic didn’t exist in his generation was surprisingly easy to accept, not without feeling a little bum. That evening, he asked his mom to read him something else and she came up with a book about animals that lived millions of years ago called dinosaurs. They weren’t as great as mythical dragons who liked treasures and gold, but they were cool.

 

The world wasn’t as exciting as he thought it would be and he was a little morose about it even though he was grateful that no one was captured in a tower or cursed by evil magic. It certain changed the way he looked at things. Furthermore, if hunting dragons was not a real thing, then what was he supposed to do now? Wandering in the backyard was different from yesterday. He couldn’t look at a shadow on the bushes and think a magic gnome was hiding behind it. Suddenly, hunting in the woods wasn’t exciting anymore. The disappointment was back and Steve eventually stopped his trips to the woods and stayed home to watch TV instead. He was heart-broken because he couldn’t be a hero anymore.

 

Well, as a kid, there were so many distractions so he got over that fact in about a week before continuing on with his life as a normal boy. Science was cool so he invested his time on it. Math wasn’t great for him but it took up time and he always liked a challenge.

 

He was on his 7th grade when their teacher in History showed a short documentary about the World War II. It wasn’t anything explicit or traumatizing but Steve had been absorbed with the footage of men lining up and marching for the good of the nation. That was how he decided to sign up for the army by the time he turned 18. He couldn’t be hero with superpowers, sure. But he could still be a soldier, which in his opinion was a noble thing to do for his country.

 

He did well in his studies, played Varsity in high school, growing into the body of a player and focused on his goal for signing up in the army. It was all doing great for him. He had something to look forward to and he couldn’t wait for the future.

 

Then his mom died just before he graduated senior year. 

 

It had been devastating for everyone. The night of the funeral was the only time he got drunk and he woke up the next day with a horrible, horrible headache which didn’t go away for a long, long time.

 

Everything after that was a blur. He couldn’t even remember his graduation. He vaguely recalled dressing up in the clothes his mom got for him and the next thing he knew, he was driving home in his car with his diploma on the passenger seat. He packed his bags and shipped off to boot camp the next day.

 

His time in basic training was good. The orders were easy enough to follow if he ignored all the insults screamed his way. He had the body for it and frankly, he was impatient to be useful, to do something with his life. 6 months of training honed him into a blunt instrument and he didn’t know how he felt about that. It was enough to know that he was doing something with his life.

 

His first tour was the first time he killed a man.

 

It happened so fast and it had been ugly. He barely had enough time to register the fact that he’d killed someone before his team reminded him of the mission in hand. They rescued a journalist from a beheading and captured a small group of terrorists for interrogation. On their way back to base, Steve had been silent and he headed up to the barracks immediately when they landed to violently throw up his stomach. Nobody called him back for the debrief and he couldn’t bring himself to care about it at the moment. If he could feel his tears blurring his eyes and not because of the physical pain on his throat, no one had to know.

 

***

 

Steve wouldn’t have survived his first tour if it wasn’t for Sam.

 

It helped to have a friend who knew when he needed a distraction. It wasn’t even sexual, although Sam was undeniably attractive; Steve liked Sam because he was a good man. His company was relaxing and calming in a way that only his mom was able generate.

 

“Is that weird?” He asked him when he told him, sitting together in the bed bunks and passing a bottle of cheap scotch back and forth. It was violating protocol but he was distressed enough not to give a shit.

 

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, it’s weird.”

 

“But good weird or bad weird?” Steve inquired, looking at him in silent hope.

 

Sam rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “Good. Definitely good.”

 

His second and third tour lasted a total of 5 years with little time for state side. He’d then been promoted to Sergeant and for another 5 years, he found himself receiving the title for Captain of the 107th Special Forces Division. He was good at his job, he had a purpose and it was good enough to live with. Sam retired 5 years after their first tour and Steve couldn’t blame him. He had a good thing with Riley and Steve was happy for them both.

 

An invitation for their wedding was delivered to his apartment in New York when he returned after a mission. He had no doubt Sam timed his invite and he was extremely touched by his thoughtfulness. It was really nice of him and Riley to invite him.

 

The wedding was pleasant, the kind that fits Sam and Riley’s personalities.

 

Steve had been shocked to see Natasha with a bump on her stomach and proceeded to hug her with the gentlest pressure he could manage. He was big and Natasha barely came up to his shoulder, he didn’t want to crush her and her baby with his muscles. Nat ribbed him on the side and gave him a frankly terrifying look before he gave her the softest squeeze. Clint was grinning all night, looking excited and happy like an overeager puppy. Nat rolled her eyes at him but she wasn’t looking any better, always smiling softly at her stomach and her husband. It was beautiful and Steve’s chest hurt just looking at them.

 

Sam and Riley were perfect for each other, finishing each other’s sentences and looking at each other with that Look. It was the way Nat and Clint looked at each other and Steve wondered for the first time if he could find someone to share a Look like that.

 

Peggy had been the one he thought he’d share a life with. He met her at a raid, in the middle of the fucking battlefield, looking perfect and gorgeous with her fierceness. She was just perfect and Steve was in love. It was exciting, took his breath away and so damn good it was intoxicating. Basically, it was a whirlwind romance between them and it even lasted for almost a year before she dropped the bomb on him.

 

“I’ve accepted a position for the River.” The River was another term for MI6.

 

“Uh…I didn’t know they offered you a position.” Steve had said, blinking at her from across the table. It was one of those rare moments where they’re both off duty and back home. Well, at least for Steve. Peggy lived in England but she spent most of her time with the CIA these days.

 

“Yes, well, I never told you.” She said, and only then did Steve register the stiffness of her shoulders and the tension as she stared at him.

 

Steve leaned back on his chair, finally catching up with the scene. “I suppose you’ve been thinking about this for a long time, am I right?” She nodded, looking at her plate.

 

She was breaking up with him and Steve knew it was coming. That was the thing. He saw it coming but he hadn’t done anything to save what they had.

 

“You have to stop, Steve. I know you need a purpose to live but you’re going to have to stop eventually.” She had said to him one last time before she left him. He was left with a hollow in his chest he couldn’t shake off and the headache was back after all those years. It was back, twice as painful as he remembered.

 

He shoved all those things aside and threw himself to his work, losing himself in missions but the dull feeling on his chest was always there no matter how much he tried to ignore it. All those years in combat were finally catching up with him and he finds himself wide awake in the middle of the night, his heart hammering in his chest with his ears ringing with the telltales of the war.

 

“You have to stop, Steve.” Peggy had said.

 

It got worse before he decided to quit. His mission was in Syria, infiltrating a human trafficking ring. The mission was a success, but the things he’d witnessed were heinously evil. There were fucking children of various race and ages from 5 to 11. They found them huddled on cells, starving and scared of any adults that came near enough. Steve stood there, looking at those terrified faces and he knew he’s had enough.

 

Steve handed his resignation a month after his last mission, officially ending his service of 15 years in the US army. Sam had fetched him from the air base and hugged him really tight as if he was falling apart. And he was. He clutched back at his friend, probably crushing him with his strength but he was grateful Sam didn’t say a word and held him closer. He didn’t know how much he needed that contact until he realized he was shaking with the withdrawal. God, he was pathetic.

 

Sam drove him to his and Riley’s house, cutting all Steve’s protests with a sharp look and to be perfectly honest, he was relieved just following orders. It was comforting.

 

“I’m sorry, man. Whatever it is you’re going through, I’m here to help.” Sam said seriously to him, gripping his shoulder and looking at him as if he could read into his soul.

 

Steve gave him a small smile. “I know, Sam. Thanks.”

 

He stayed at Sam’s place for a week before moving back to his apartment in New York. As much as he wants to stay at the comfort of Sam and Riley’s home, it was impossible for him to ignore the whole world. He just gave up his whole life in the military and now, he had nothing else to do.

 

He stayed at his apartment for a week before he realized he absolutely had no idea what to do with all his time. Peggy was right. He needed a reason to live and he just didn’t know what that was.

 

Steve was a decorated war veteran diagnosed with PTSD and insomnia. And he had no fucking idea what to do with his life. He couldn’t sleep, and the rare times that he does, he woke up fighting off a scream clawing at his throat.

 

Adjusting to society was fucking hard. Therapy took everything in him and he was bone-deep tired of fucking everything. He considered moving to the country side and live in seclusion but for some reason, he couldn’t see himself leaving home. He hated New York but it was familiar, like a kind of battlefield if he was to say. Every time he left his apartment, he was overwhelmed with all the people sometimes he had to fight off a panic attack on a nearby alley. It was pathetic and God, he was aware just how much.

 

He spent most of his free time working out on a hole-in-wall gym he found when he was on a run. He ran every morning and noticed the place with the 24 hour sign. The gym owner was a huge guy named Thor and he had a sunny disposition it was hard not to like him. It was an old place and only Steve took on the 24 hour sign on the door seriously. He had the gym all to himself at 2 am and on occasion, Thor would even spar with him at the boxing ring. The guy served in the army as well though not as long as Steve.

 

It was hard, at night when he couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. Sometimes he wished he didn’t soundproof his room because the silence drove him restless. It was unnatural and sometimes he wondered if he was going crazy.

 

He had developed a routine, which was pretty good, as his therapist often reminded him. One day at a time. It had been months since his discharge and he was taking the turtle phase, which was terrible with Steve’s patience. He relapsed more often than not and there were days when he doesn’t even get out of bed. This routine he’s built was painstakingly fragile and he just wants to fucking sleep for once, a blissful sleep without being scared of the faces in his nightmares.

 

So naturally, this was the time for the universe to pitch him something he would never have expected in a million years.  
It was 2 am and it was one of those nights when the silence was too much so he was heading to the store to wander the cereal shelves. It was a thing he did, staring at the colorful boxes he would never see back in the field to remind himself that he was home. He was passing an alley on his way there when he heard a soft noise which he recognized was human. No animal could make that sound, at least not that he’s heard of.

 

He paused at the mouth of the alley and squinted at the dark corners where the dumpsters were bursting with garbage.

 

“Hello?” He called out and leaned forward to look closely.

 

There was another sound of plastic rustling and a whimper. Human, it was definitely human and not just his imagination. Steve walked soundlessly into the direction of the noise and saw a small figure huddled beside the garbage and slowly approached the figure.

 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 

At the sound of his voice, the figure stiffened and one second, it was lying down, then it was sitting up trying to get away from him as much as possible.

 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you…” He lowered his voice but it doesn’t seem to soothe the person, still crawling away from him. It was terrible and Steve wished Sam was here because he’d know what to do.

 

A car drove past on the street behind him and Steve caught sight of the person in front of him with the passing headlights. Steve  
registered the sight of him and was filled with outrage at the bruises on his face and a black eye. He was clutching his left arm to his chest and scrabbling his feet in front of him to press his back against the wall. He looked so young; Steve ached at the sight of him.

 

“It’s okay.” He repeated, lowering his voice and hunching his shoulder to look as non-threatening as possible. “Do you know where you are?”

 

The boy’s head snapped around clearly disoriented and Steve felt a feeling of protectiveness surge through him.

 

“You’re in New York City.” He gave off the exact address of the place and saw the guy paying attention to his words. “My name is Steve and I’m not gonna hurt you.”

 

He clearly didn’t believe Steve but at least he wasn’t panicking badly.

 

“Do you want help to go to the hospital?”

 

“No!” He practically yelled with a rough voice as if it was forced out of his throat. Steve didn’t like the sound of that not one bit.  
“Listen. You’re injured and bleeding. You need medical attention—“

 

The guy was getting up before he could finish what he was saying and let out a gasp of pain when he leaned his hand on the ground. Steve stopped himself from moving close to support him because it would be unwanted and would probably drive him away more.

 

He was leaning heavily on the brick wall and panting roughly, cradling his wrist to his chest again. He pushed off and started to walk towards the mouth of the alley, away from Steve who hovered from a distance anxiously.

 

“Okay, okay! I won’t call an ambulance on you. But please, at least let me take you home or something.” Steve practically pleaded. It was painful, watching him stagger on his feet.

 

Before he could say anything more, the guy was tilting on one direction and Steve quickly moved to catch him before he collapsed on his feet.

 

“Christ.” Steve muttered and looked at the guy in his arms. He was unconscious, probably from pain and exhaustion. Steve rearranged his body and tucked him to his chest before lifting him up. He was surprisingly light, his head lulling before dropping on Steve’s shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, Steve turned and walked back to his apartment across the street.

 

There he was, Steve Rogers with an unconscious guy on his arms. It couldn’t have been more dramatic than that.


	2. No clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a recovery fic but mostly on Steve's case. The tags might change progressively as the story goes so please heed the warning. Here's the next one for you guys. Enjoy!

Steve stared at the unconscious man on his bed and wondered not for the first time where the universe finds these plots to pull at him. It was a miracle he was just as stubborn to live on because he’d have ended it all those years ago.

 

There was a young man, no—practically a kid, really--on his bed and he had no idea what to do. Give him a mission and he’ll execute as best as he could but he was helpless with these kinds of situations. This was not on the protocol. He was trained for combat, not for medical treatment although he knew the basics of it. And this guy seriously needs a professional to look at him, not Steve.

 

The guy was seriously young, probably in his early twenties and Steve absolutely had no idea how to proceed from that point. He could try to treat the guy’s injuries but touching him without permission sounded some warning bells on Steve’s head. He had a line to draw.

 

After a moment of just staring, he decided to let the guy sleep and gently arranged him on a comfortable position before throwing a blanket over him. He went to the living room and dropped on the couch, a feeling of exhaustion coming over him.

 

He was just resting his eyes for a bit and was pleasantly surprised when he opened them to the bright morning light. He stretched from where he was stiffly positioned on the couch and looked at the clock. Huh, look at that. He slept for four hours straight. He couldn’t remember when he slept that much in one night.

 

Stretching out from his position on the couch, he suddenly realized he was hungry. Another thing he was actually pleasantly happy to know. He didn’t feel hungry anymore since he resigned. Eating was more of a chore than something he used to enjoy. The rations back in the base were plainly bland and he’s pretty sure his tongue has gone numb over the years.

 

He was on a scavenger hunt for food in his dirty kitchen (his fridge was empty save for a lonely carrot) and he was squinting in confusion at the green sock on his knife drawer (he didn’t think he owned something this bright to look at) when he heard a noise from inside his room. 

 

The events of last night went back to him in a rush and he was grasping the knob to open the door of his bedroom before he could think what he’s doing.  
The guy was awake and he looked at Steve with wild, frantic eyes as he scrambled to his feet off the bed.

 

“Where the hell am I? What is this place?” He demanded, darting his eyes around the room before finally settling on glaring at Steve furiously. Steve, who was standing at the door, with no fucking clue what to do next.

 

“This is my apartment.” He finally says, answering the question. “You don’t remember what happened last night?”

 

“What happened last night? Are you the one who brought me here?” The guy was angry, which Steve was more familiar with dealing.

 

“Yes. You said you didn’t want to go to the hospital so I brought you here instead.”

 

The guy was still glaring at him, suspicious and Steve stared back, chewing the inside of his cheek.

 

“And what exactly did you expect to do by bringing me here?” The guy asked and Steve could read behind the lines; he blanched at the implications.

 

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, indignant. “I didn’t bring you here to take advantage of you, if that’s what you mean.” It hurt to know that the guy thought he was that kind of person.

 

He glared at Steve defiantly and tilted his chin, his eyes glinting dangerously as if daring him to come closer. And it hit him. 

 

Steve was suddenly aware of what he looked like at the moment.

 

He was blocking the only exit in the room with his 6 ft physique and he was squaring his shoulders at the insult, his figure a solid block on the door. The guy wasn’t exactly small but Steve was bigger, not to mention with years of experience in combat although the guy didn’t need to know that, and it was impossible to trust anyone in a strange place.  
His indignation deflated and Steve hunched on his shoulder in shame. He was an idiot. The guy was scared and he wasn’t helping making him feel safe. Which was supposed to be on protocol in handling prisoners of war. What was he doing?

 

“I’m sorry.” He said, hanging his head and sighing dejectedly.

 

The guy was clearly surprised by his sudden surrender and narrowed his eyes at him, still suspicious. Steve wouldn’t blame him. He’d never trust himself either.

 

“Look, you can leave if you want.” Steve offered, quickly stepping out of the room and backing up to the living room, keeping within sight of the kid. It was a moment before the guy followed him out, cradling his wrist back to his chest. Of course, he completely forgot about that.

 

Steve fidgeted in the middle of the room and the guy was watching him as if expecting him to do a double take or something. It was uncomfortable, making his palms sweaty and unsure where to put them.

 

“Um, I have a medicine kit if you want to treat that before you leave.” He finally said after a moment of silent staring, eyeing the guy’s wrist.  
Another beat of silence and Steve expected him to refuse and just leave but to his surprise and relief, he nodded.

 

He scrambled to fetch the kit on his bathroom while the guy waited on his couch. Frankly, he expected to return to an empty living room, not blaming the guy if he took his chance to leave while Steve was away. He relaxed when entered the room and saw the guy still sitting on the couch, unmoved, looking vaguely uncomfortable in his surroundings.  
The kid let him put a bandage on his wrist and Steve carefully did his job without touching him that much. It was a sloppy fix, his hand not quite working the way he wants at the moment, but Steve smiled at his small accomplishment before leaning back to look at the guy still staring at him. It was unnerving.

 

“Thanks.” The guy said, moving his wrist this way and that before nodding.

 

“You want to take of your eye?” Steve asked, gesturing at the purple bruises on his eye. It looked painful.

 

The guy shook his head and stood from where he was sitting on the couch. “Thanks again.”

 

“No problem. You good on your own?” He was probably acting like a mother hen but he couldn’t help worrying about this guy out there.

 

He looked at Steve with one of his intense gazes before nodding and walking to the door. 

 

And then he was out. 

 

The door clicked decisively and Steve was suddenly alone in his apartment once more. The whole thing lasted in less than 20 minutes. The hunger he felt earlier was gone and he just wanted to lie down and sleep the day off. He was exhausted. But of course, sleep was a fickle once more and Steve distracted himself the rest of the day by pounding the stuffing out of a punching bag at the gym.

 

Everyday life resumed and Steve went on with his routine. Therapy sessions were still awful and he still didn’t have a job. It’s not so much as he needed the money, more as a way of fitting in to society. 

 

His mom left him a college fund in hopes that he wouldn’t go through his decision with the army and his army pension was enough to live comfortably. He didn’t want to spend his mom’s money though and having a job was “going to give you a sense of normalcy, Steve, please consider it.” His therapist had a point but like hell was he going to admit that, not even at gun-point.

 

The problem was, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. He had been adamant on joining the army since he was on 7th grade and he didn’t really think about any other option in his life. College was something he never really thought to consider. He did like science as a kid, and he did a bit of sketching but he wasn’t looking for a career as an employee of an office or something. He was chasing down monsters overseas, something that he’s always wanted even as a kid.  
So Steve was on a crisis. At the age of 33. He tried not to think about it too much.

 

***

 

Darcy Lewis was a blessing in his life.

 

She was an intern of Thor’s girlfriend who was a professor at NYU. Steve struggled to understand Thor and Jane’s relationship because they seemed really different from each other. Jane talked about astrophysics to Steve and his mind was in jumbles. Thor always nodded continuously at her explanations whenever she visited at the gym and Steve wondered if Thor actually understood what she was saying or he just nodded along to keep her talking. In any case, Jane brought Darcy with her sometimes and Steve couldn’t help being charmed by her character.

 

“Dude, look at this guy. He couldn’t be more obvious on his narcissism with all that hair gel. It’s a good thing he’s hot, though. Look at those biceps. Hmmm…”  
Steve snorted from where he was wrapping his fist with cloth. Darcy was perched on the bench beside the track equipment, swiping at her phone furiously.

 

Honestly, Steve was too old to hang out with a 23 year old kid but Darcy treated him like she treated everyone else. She was sarcastic, funny and social norms just didn’t make sense to her. Hanging out with a 33 year old war veteran wasn’t weird on Darcy’s logic. And for that, Steve liked her.

 

“Hey, I have a date tonight. Will you come shopping with me?”

 

He laughed, glancing at her. “You sure you want to take me? I won’t be useful, you know.”

 

Darcy narrowed her eyes behind her glasses. “Dude, have you seen you? Of course you’re useful. I need an arm candy.”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow, ignoring her comment on his look. “I don’t know a thing about clothes.”

 

“Yes, I know. I’m just gonna try on a lot of dresses and your job is to sit there to compliment me on whatever I wear. It’s pretty easy.”

 

He laughed and agreed to take her shopping, being the good soldier and paying her the compliments she absolutely deserved. She might have asked for it but Steve couldn’t lie to save his life.

 

Hanging out with Darcy might make him feel out of his depths but at least it was informative. She’s taken it up to herself to keep him on the loop. He was given a list of things he needed to know about popular culture. Steve hadn’t realized he was a workaholic until he had so much free time in his hands. He filled his free time watching American TV and Darcy lent him some of her DVDs. She gave him a lot of crap for not seeing Star Wars and sat with him through the first three, throwing popcorn at the screen occasionally. It was fun.

 

“Just take your time, man. Nobody’s rushing you to do anything.” She said one time, staying over at his place for a night and not minding his insomnia one bit.

 

“Thanks.” He smiled at her softly, the warm atmosphere making him teary-eyed. It wasn’t often he felt safe in the company of others since his mom died. His friends helped but they couldn’t be around all the time.

 

He was actually glad he could still cry at small things. He’d be worried if he couldn’t cry at all.

 

***

 

It was almost a month after he took home an unconscious young man to his apartment and he thought that was the end of it. Then he was stepping out of the elevator to his floor and the said young man was standing on the hallway in front of his door, looking slightly awkward at being caught waiting there.

 

Steve had frozen at the sight of him, surprised at how different he looked without the bruises marring his skin. He looked even younger than Steve initially suspected and his eyes were the same piercing blue Steve noticed the last time he was here.

 

They stood there and stared for a few moments before the guy shifted slightly and cleared his throat, dropping his gaze. Steve realized he must be nervous and in turn making him nervous.

 

“I’m sorry about the last time.” He said, glancing at Steve briefly. “I realized, you were just trying to help and I was such an ass taking it out on you like that. I’m sorry.”

 

Steve had to blink a few times at that. “No, its fine. No need to apologize. I would probably feel the same way in that situation.” He said, in consolidation.

 

The guy was staring at him with that intense look again and Steve tried not to squirm at the scrutiny. For god’s sake, he’s had Commanding Officers staring down at him in worse ways and he’s never felt so intimidated in his life with this kid.

 

“You’ve got a hero complex, or something?” The kid blurted suddenly and Steve could feel his face blushing.

 

“Well, you got that in one go.” He chuckled, embarrassed. Nobody’s pointed it out that bluntly before.

 

The kid was still staring at him but his mouth was curling up in a smile, something Steve couldn’t help looking at. It was a lovely mouth, rosy pink and soft-looking.

 

“What’s your name again?” He asked, tilting his head minutely, his eyes glinting with what Steve recognized was amusement.

 

“Steve. Steve Rogers.” He said, smiling back at him. “And you?”

 

The kid smirked. “I’m Bucky. Guess I should’ve done that first.”

 

Bucky. The kid was named Bucky. It was a ridiculous name and for some reason, Steve thought it suited him.

 

He nodded and his eyes dropped on Bucky’s wrist. “Your wrist okay?”

 

Bucky lifted his hand and flexed his wrist to prove it was fine. Steve eyed his face and let out a sigh of relief when he couldn’t see any more bruises.  
“You weren’t kidding on the hero-complex, huh?”

 

Bucky’s voice was pure mirth and Steve chuckled, embarrassed again. “I really wasn’t.”

 

He snorted softly before nodding, smiling at Steve for the last time. “Thanks again for your help. That’s all I wanted to say.”

 

Steve wanted to ask so many things. Why he ended up on that alley, if he had someone to look after him. But he nodded and let Bucky walk past him, and into the elevator.

 

“See you around, Steve.”

 

“Bye, Bucky.”

 

After a few moments of standing in the middle of the hallway, Steve heaves a sigh and turns to his apartment door, ignoring the pang on his chest. 

 

Best not to mind that one too much.


	3. Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos guys! It keeps me alive, like for real. By the way, this work is not edited or beta'ed so all mistakes are mine. I'm not from America and English is not my native language so I apologize for all the American inaccuracies, like the subway or Brooklyn or New York in general. All my knowledge is from the internet. So, here's another chapter for you. Enjoy!

Steve was finally hired as a research assistant for Dr. Bruce Banner at the University. Jane was kind enough to recommend him to Dr. Banner who mentioned his need of someone who could do the manual labor of data sorting. Bruce was nice and quiet, leaving Steve to work on the stacks of documents on the lab and keeping to himself. They worked together silently and it was different from the silence Steve loathed. It was companionable and Steve could get used to the work. He had a CO and it was organized, Steve relaxed into his role almost instantly.

 

His friends were delighted when he told them the news and nagged him to buy them drinks on his first pay. Steve, being Steve, texted them the day he got his first pay grade and they went out. The money wasn’t nearly enough to buy everyone multiple drinks but Steve was so happy, he called them anyway. It’s not like money was an issue for him, really.  
Steve introduced Thor, Jane and Darcy to Sam, Riley, Natasha and Clint. Sam and Darcy instantly teamed up to tease him mercilessly and Steve was ultimately happy, surrounded by his friends. It was a good night despite the fact that he was the only one who didn’t drink alcohol in that bar. Nobody gave him shit for that and he was grateful for his friends’ understanding.

 

He had a good time, his old and new friends were getting along and the night couldn’t have gone better.

 

Steve was almost whistling on his way home, feeling lighter in his steps and he was probably grinning too broadly he looked deranged. It was a good night, and hopefully, sleep wouldn’t be evasive this time.

 

He was too happy with how the evening went that when he entered his apartment, he didn’t immediately register the presence of another person curled up on his couch, until he saw him.

 

Steve went rigid, his body tensing into awareness as his eyes darted to the windows, scouting for sniper shots. His mind was tripping over itself, thinking of all the potential danger inside his apartment, the possible exits and fought the urge to crouch on the floor, standard threat-analysis procedure.

 

He had to give himself a few minutes to just breathe, remind himself he was in America, and that the person on the couch was not a threat to him, that it was safe.  
He padded into the living room, standing over the figure on the sofa and his hand was reaching out to shake him awake.

 

Bucky slowly opened his eyes, blinking up at Steve. 

 

“Umm, hi?” He mumbled voice slightly hoarse with sleep and Steve ignored the way his chest tightened at the sound of that.

 

He took a step back, inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. This kid, for real.

 

“Bucky.” He says, managing to sound in control. “How did you get in here?”

 

The kid was still blinking at him, sitting up and rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. Steve slowly felt himself calm down at the sight, his heart slowing down, suddenly leaving him tired.

 

“Uh, I picked the lock.” The kid says, and he frowned, as if he didn’t mean to say that.

 

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, mentally noting to install a higher grade security lock. Bucky sat up straighter, looking more awake now and actually looking guilty.

 

“You realize that’s breaking and entering, right?” Steve says, rubbing his temple in exasperation. Of course the kid picked his lock. What a joy.

 

Bucky sits up and scoots over the edge of the couch, his socked feet dropping on the carpet floor. Steve couldn’t help being endeared at the sight, despite his exasperation. Bucky   
bit his lip, hunching his shoulders and looking anywhere but Steve.

 

At the sight of Bucky’s guilt, Steve sighed in defeat. He wasn’t good at holding his anger anyway.

 

“You gonna call the cops then?” Bucky asked stiffly, one of his feet nudging on the shoe beside it, still not looking at Steve.

 

Steve looked at him, at the way he held himself, and mentally cursed himself because he knew his mind too much and yeah, okay, he wasn’t going to call the cops on the kid who broke into his house. Who was he kidding?

 

“I won’t.” He says, sighing. Bucky finally lifted his head at that and yep, there was his eyes again; eerily bright in the dim light of the room.

 

“But promise me you won’t do it again.” Steve said, trying to sound stern and mostly succeeding.

 

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

 

Steve shook his head. “You have to promise, Bucky.”

 

The kid looked at him, his eyes narrowing a slight bit. “I promise.” And it sounded sincere enough, Steve nodded his approval.

 

Bucky stared at him for a long time, making Steve uncomfortable standing over him and eventually he cleared his throat, and walked towards the breakfast counter separating the living room to the kitchen.

 

“You want a drink, or something?” He called out, opening his fridge. “I’ve got water and…yeah, just water.” 

 

He mentally added grocery shopping on his list below the new locks and sighed at the sad state of his fridge (the lonesome carrot finally taken care of, replaced by a bag of onions.) He pulled out two bottles and walked back to the couch, where Bucky was still staring at him with his unnerving blue-gray eyes.

 

Steve knew he should be asking questions, like the last time Bucky was here and he wanted to. But, from the wary way he still held himself in front of Steve; it was likely he would risk driving him away. And he didn’t want that. He recalled the way Bucky slept on the couch, looking defenseless before Steve woke him up and felt bad. He of all people should know how difficult it was to sleep on an unfamiliar place.

 

“Can I stay the night?”

 

There was a long moment of silence while Steve processed the question, turning it over his head and Bucky looked increasingly awkward while he waited for Steve’s answer, fiddling with the water bottle on his hands and dropping his gaze.

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Steve says eventually and Bucky visibly relaxed. He met Steve’s eyes again and a small smile was curling on his mouth. Steve tried not to stare too much.

 

“Thanks.” Bucky says, then he was leaning on the couch, pulling his feet under him as he relaxed.

 

Steve smiled at him, nodding before making his way to the kitchen again.

 

So, Bucky was staying. He must trust Steve enough to decide that and Steve couldn’t help the way his chest swelled at the thought.

 

He let the kid borrow his clothes for the night, gave him a spare blanket and got the hell out of the living room before he embarrassed himself by staring too much. He couldn’t help it. Bucky was gorgeous, so goddamn beautiful with his intense gaze and soft, inviting mouth. But he was so young. So much younger than Steve that he wondered what it says about him being attracted to a much younger man. He didn’t want to know.

 

So, Steve tossed and turned in his bed for all hours of the night before finally falling asleep just before dawn. He dreamed of flashing gray-blue eyes and didn’t have to think too hard on whom that indicted. His brain was weird.

 

***

 

“Steve. Steve, wake up.”

 

Disoriented, Steve slowly blinked his eyes open to see Bucky leaning over his face.

 

“Wha-?”

 

Bucky’s forehead wrinkled and he leaned back. “Get up. Some guy named Sam is here. He wants to talk to you.”

 

Steve frowned at him, slowly sitting up and yawning. “What time ’sit?”

 

“Late. He brought food, by the way.” Bucky said and turned to go.

 

Bucky was walking out of his bedroom, which—how? He’s pretty sure he locked his door last night, and leaving him in a state between sleep-mushed and awake. Then Bucky’s   
words caught up with his sleep-addled brain.

 

He was wide awake in the next second and rolling out of bed.

 

“What do you mean Sam is here? What—“

 

He walked out of his bedroom and sure enough, his best buddy was sitting on the couch with a very grave expression on his face. Bucky was on a stool on the breakfast counter, nibbling on a sandwich from Steve’s favorite diner. Sam must have brought it with him when he came, like Bucky said.

 

Oh shit.

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed at him and he must have said that out loud because Bucky was smirking at him from where he ate his sandwich.

 

“Good sleep?” Sam asked, his tone flat. “Must be since you slept until noon.”

 

It was noon?

 

Steve’s eyes darted to Bucky again, taking in the way Steve’s clothes hang on him and his chest was concaving on itself, oh god, what was that, was he dying? He was dying.

 

“Steve. We need to talk.” Sam was suddenly rising from the couch and Steve dropped his gaze to him, recognizing his friend’s tone.

 

Oh shit.

 

“Uhh…Sam, it’s not what you think.” Steve started.

 

Sam’s eyes sharpened and Steve obeyed immediately, keeping his mouth shut. Sam walked past him to the hallway near the balcony, where they could talk out of Bucky’s ears.

 

Then as soon as they were far enough, Sam rounded in on him.

 

“What the fuck, Steve?!” He whisper-shouted. “What the hell is going on? Who was that guy?”

 

“Sam, I swear—“

 

“—he was wearing your clothes, wasn’t he—“

 

“—it’s not what you think, I’m—“

 

“—he looks way too young, Steve, oh my god—“

 

“—listen, I was just trying to help him—“

 

“—the way you look at him, I swear it’s so not appropriate—“

 

Steve choked on his next words and he felt his face flush so fast, it was a wonder why he was still standing on his feet. Sam abruptly halted on his words seeing his reaction and   
he gaped at Steve.

 

“Oh my god. Are you two—“

 

“No! We’re not! I swear!” Steve exclaimed despairingly, feeling panicked in a way he’s never felt before.

 

Sam was still gaping at him, and Steve wished desperately that he wasn’t so easy to read. Sam rubbed his knuckles over his eyes, as if he was staving off a headache, which was   
just rude, because Steve was the one who had no clue what to do here.

 

“Jesus. When I came to my best friend’s place to hang out today, I really wasn’t expecting a complete stranger to answer the door, wearing his clothes.” Sam says, his tone weary. 

 

He sighed before eyeing Steve, who could feel his face burn in embarrassment and…something else. 

 

Bucky was wearing his clothes.

 

Suddenly, Sam was groaning. “Jesus, your face. I swear to god if I didn’t know you all that well, I’d think you’d…Christ.”

 

Steve let out a half-strangled sound, his eyes widening in aghast as he looked at Sam.

 

“What even are you, I’m not…I don’t—“ He sputtered because what?

 

Sam sighed again. He opened his mouth but seemed to think twice on his words before finally saying, “Okay, okay. I know you wouldn’t do that, with you being you, but give a guy   
some warning next time, alright? Honestly, I probably had the most epic gaping face when he opened your door.”

 

Steve was still reeling from Sam’s implications about him and Bucky, but he gets it. What it probably looked like from another person’s perspective. And he couldn’t blame Sam if he thought that too.

 

“Yeah, well. He just showed up last night out of the blue. I couldn’t just make him leave.” He mumbled, a bit sheepishly.

 

Sam looked at him for a second before shaking his head. “I thought so. But really, you had me worried there. I mean, it’s fine if this is your thing, I totally support you—“

 

He made a choked sound at that, looking mortified.

 

“I was just taken by surprise, that’s all. I’m sorry for jumping into conclusions, man.” Sam finished, honestly looking apologetic.

 

Sam was probably the most well-adjusted person he’s met in his life. He could talk about stuff that would give Steve an ulcer just thinking about. Steve can’t talk about his feelings like that to his therapist even if they paid him to do so.

 

“So,” Sam perked up, his eyes brightening up. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend there?”

 

And that led to him having to awkwardly introduce the two in the living room. Bucky was polite, shaking Sam’s hand, smiling all the time. They sat on the kitchen table, eating   
Sam’s take-out on actually plates and all because “we’re not all barbarians like you, Steve, go get some plates.”

 

He realized he didn’t know Bucky’s name until he was telling Sam its James Buchanan Barnes. He realized he didn’t know a thing about him at all, actually. Which made him a little sad and a lot more curious than was probably appropriate.

 

Then all too soon, Bucky was borrowing Steve’s bathroom to change to his ratty jeans and hoodie and he was thanking him for letting him stay the night. Sam watched from the kitchen sink as Steve did his best to send him off without acting like a mother hen.

 

As soon as Bucky was out the door, Steve had slumped on the wall right by the hallway, exhausted and weary. Sam watched him take a minute before putting the kettle on, making him tea to calm him down.

 

“I take it, he doesn’t know about your situation, then?” Sam says, handing him a mug of hot liquid which he took gratefully.

 

Sam sat on the floor beside him and knocked their shoulders together, making Steve sink into his friend’s side.

 

“He doesn’t. Same as I don’t know a thing about him.” He mumbled, gripping the mug between his hands.

 

Sam nodded, sipping on his own mug, not saying anything.

 

“He broke into my apartment, you know. Nearly had an attack when I saw him sleeping on the couch. I made him promise, though, not to do it again.” He tells him, taking a gulp of the hot liquid, feeling it burn his tongue. It helped ground him.

 

Sam doesn’t ask him anything but Steve tells him about how they met anyway. Sam tells him he was a good judge of character and that he trusts him. Steve gives him a big hug for that.

 

They stayed on the hallway for a few moments that it takes Steve to get up again and take a shower. They spend the day shopping for Natasha’s kids, who were turning 3 this year. They had to take a taxi on the way because the subway was overwhelming him but all in all, it was a good day.


	4. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! End of semester madness, you know. Anyway, here's another chapter for you guys. I wanted this to be a slow-burn but somehow, I couldn't resist giving them a moment. So...there you go! Oh, and tags. Panic attacks.
> 
> I got a Tumblr. It's mostly a blog about Sebastian Stan because I love him and random stuff. Feel free to check it out.  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justadylanobrienfan

“…just a bit more—gotcha!”

 

The fluffy creature struggled viciously against his hold, clawing wildly at the between them and Steve kept his arms away cautiously to avoid getting scratched. He eyed the sharp claws swishing around carefully and winced at the hissing sounds the animal was making at him.

 

The little girl let out a cheer as he slowly descended the tree.

 

“Berry! He’s safe!” She cried in relief and held out her tiny hands to get the cat from him.

 

He hesitated handing it to her, keeping his hold on the still struggling cat but then the kid was quick to snatch it away. He sighed in relief when the creature calmed at her touch.

 

“Thanks, Steve! You saved Berry!” The kid, Reina, smiles up at him.

 

He smiled back, fluffing her hair fondly and waved her off to her house next door.

 

There was applause from behind him and he stiffened for a second before turning around to see Darcy standing there with a smirk on her face.

 

He grinned at her. “You saw that, huh?”

 

“Got it on video too. You wouldn’t believe how many followers I’ve got because of your videos.” She pulled out her phone, scrolling at the screen before giving it to him.

 

Sure enough, there was a video of him getting down the tree and handing the cat to the kid. He groaned, handing her back her phone. He doesn’t even try to delete it. Knowing Darcy she probably has a back up of it already.

 

“Please tell me you’re not posting this on Facebook.” He pleaded, but still pulled her for a hug which she returned.

 

She laughed, smirking at him mischievously when they parted. “No. I’m not posting this on Facebook.”

 

“But…?” He winced, sensing danger.

 

She waggled her eyebrows. “I’m posting it on Tumblr and Twitter.”

 

He groaned, but it was an act, and she knew. “I’m not saving any cats on trees from now on, I swear.”

 

“Such lies, Rogers. You will.” 

 

And she’s right about it too.

 

He chuckled, shaking his head fondly as they walked back to his building. “What else have you got? You said videos.”

 

Darcy wordlessly handed her the phone and he watched himself helping an old woman with her groceries, hold out a door for a pregnant woman and her husband and give money to a homeless man. He flushed red when he realized it was posted somewhere on the internet and shuddered at the thought of what people might comment on it. It was best not to know.

 

Darcy brought him documentaries about ocean life to watch when he couldn’t sleep and they spent the day watching a series about high school teenagers who turn into werewolves and Steve couldn’t help thinking about his childhood dreams about magical creatures. If only he didn’t grow up so fast.

 

***

 

Bucky promised not to break in to his apartment, so Steve was pleasantly surprised when he knocked on his door at two o’clock in the morning a week after they saw each other. He doesn’t mind the time. He wasn’t getting any sleep that night anyway.

 

Steve sets the couch for him with pillows and a blanket before escaping to his room while Bucky washes in the bathroom.

 

Bucky only says he missed his train by explanation of why he was staying for the night. It was good enough for Steve. He knows Bucky worked somewhere around the area, but he doesn’t know the specifics. He doesn’t ask either.

 

He hadn’t expected to fall asleep when he got on his bed. He felt the softness of the blanket over him and the give of the mattress on his back, and he was closing his eyes.

 

Then he was somewhere else.

 

It wasn’t even somewhere familiar like the sandy fields of the desert. He was on the rough concrete of that cell in Syria. He was alone and it was so damn cold, which doesn’t even make any sense because it was supposed to be burning hot. It was so cold and he was all alone and he didn’t want to be alone. He was crying for help, for Sam, for Riley and Natasha but there was nobody. He was shouting until his voice was hoarse and still, nobody was coming to him for help. He was all alone—

 

“Steve? Are you okay?”

 

\--and he couldn’t breathe but he was shouting and shouting and shouting

 

“Steve? Steve! Wake up!”

 

Warm hands were touching his face, his shoulders and he was gasping, the shock of the warmth seeping into his flesh. He opened his eyes, blurry with tears and Bucky’s face twisted with worry was coming to focus and he was sobbing, grabbing him and pushing his face into his neck, wet sobs rocking his body.

 

“It’s okay. Shhh…you’re safe. You’re home. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

 

He clung to the only thing that was real at the moment, his arms a vice grip around Bucky’s body, holding back the sobs which came out anyway, making his chest hurt.

 

“You’re safe. It’s gonna be fine. I’m here.” Bucky was murmuring, his arms around Steve’s shoulders, his hands cradling the back of his neck. He didn’t seem to mind his shirt being soaked with tears, or the big man clinging to him like he’s afraid to let go.

 

Steve choked back his cries, squeezing Bucky tighter to him and he let out a strangled sound when Bucky squeezed back. There was nobody before. Nobody ever squeezed back. No matter what he did, nobody came and now, Bucky was here. Gnawing relief and gratitude was crashing down on him as he gripped the back of Bucky’s shirt.

 

When Steve’s cries toned down, Bucky carefully pulled back. Steve still had his arms around him so he didn’t go too far. He slowly pushed Steve on his back, looking at him with his piercing blue-gray eyes and Steve obediently let his body fall on the mattress, let his arms fall from around Bucky’s.

 

“I—“ He tried to say but his voice cracked, his throat closing up.

 

Bucky looked at him, his eyes strangely bright in the darkness of the room and crawled over his side. He laid his head on Steve’s shoulder, one of his arms looping around Steve’s waist.

 

Steve was shaking, his body wracking with silent sobs as he curled around Bucky, pushing his nose to the top of his head. He inhaled Bucky’s scent, grounding him, letting him know he was home and he wasn’t alone.

 

*** 

 

Steve woke up feeling worn out. It took a moment for him to remember what happened before he was curling up in his bed, pushing his face on his pillow in hopes of getting smothered by it.

 

But then there was noise outside his bedroom and he rolled out of bed, curious of the smell that was wafting around the apartment.

 

Bucky was cooking something on his kitchen, looking like he knew what he was doing and Steve had stared at him probably longer than necessary. Bucky turned around and Steve froze where he was standing, debating whether it was too late to take a dive back to his bedroom to escape.

 

Just before he decided to turn around, Bucky raised his eyes and met his across the room. 

 

Too late.

 

“You look like shit.” Bucky says, putting down the spatula he was using.

 

Steve didn’t know what to say to that so he cleared his throat, walking towards the kitchen. He was probably blushing like a teenager but at this point, he wasn’t sure he could do something about it. Being around Bucky made him feel like an awkward teen.

 

“What are you cooking?” He asks instead, keeping his voice casual as if he hadn’t cried his voice hoarse.

 

If Bucky noticed the way he sounded, he didn’t comment on it, continuing to stir the pan on the stove with a spatula.

 

Then a few moments later, Bucky places a plate of Bolognese spaghetti on the counter. “This is the one thing I could make with what was inside your fridge.”

 

Steve looked at the plate then back at Bucky. “I have pasta?”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow and gives him a fork, which he accepts. “It was on the cupboard.”

 

He sits down on the stool and slowly digs in. His eyebrows shot up when he tastes the meal and nods at Bucky approvingly, who in turn beams proudly. It was good.

 

Bucky sits across the counter with his own serving and he pulls out a few books from a backpack which Steve didn’t even notice he had last night. He watches as Bucky lays out the books on the surface of the table, eating his spaghetti silently.

 

“I have a class later this afternoon. Better get some readings before then. Do you mind?” Bucky asks, which no, not at all.  
Steve shakes his head and watches Bucky read while he eats.

 

“I didn’t know you go to school.” Steve says after a moment.

 

Bucky glances at him and back to his books. “NYU. Mechanical Engineering.” He says, flipping to another page.

 

“Oh.” Steve says. There must have been something in his tone because Bucky was raising an eyebrow at him. “Um.”

 

“Aren’t you gonna ask?”

 

“Ask what?”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes before pointedly looking at him. “Ask me. Go ahead. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me things and I’m running out of patience waiting for you to get around it.”

 

Steve docks his head. “Um.”

 

Bucky snorted. “You’re either too trusting or you’re an idiot. I’m hoping the first one. You haven’t asked me a thing about myself since you met me. Are you not curious or just not interested?”

 

Oh, he was curious, alright. He had a million things he wanted to ask Bucky since they met. Now that he was given the opportunity to unleash them, though, he doesn’t know which one to ask.

 

Well, he does want to know one thing but he’s not sure if it’s okay to ask it.

 

“Go on. Ask me that question.”

 

Steve blinked blankly at the young man across him.

 

“You were thinking of something just now. What was it?” Bucky narrows his eyes at him, his focus completely on Steve now. Which, wow. The intensity of that gaze was making his heart jump on his chest.

 

“Uhh, how…I mean, why were you in that alley the night we met?” He asks tentatively.

 

“I had a slight problem with a client. He didn’t want to pay the exact amount we agreed, so we got on a fight. My mistake, really. Forgot he was on full-scholarship with the football team.” Bucky says casually, like they were discussing the weather or something equally trivial.

 

Steve had to take a minute to absorb that fact. Client? What kind of work did Bucky do?

 

An idea was forming in his mind and he felt his eyes widen, snapping to look at the young man. Who was looking at him with a smirk on his face. Steve was opening his mouth, but he had no idea what he was about to say. Then, Bucky’s face was breaking into a very amused smile and he was laughing the next second.

 

Steve could only stare at him, at the way he threw his head back, exposing his pale neck and gulped his tongue. He was aware he was blushing uncontrollably. He doesn’t think he’s blushed as much in his life, the way he did with Bucky.  
Then he was panicking suddenly. His eyes darting wildly from side to side, fidgeting on his seat.

 

“Um, I—I was just, I mean, I’m not judging you if you do that. I understand everyone has to make a living—“

 

“Steve, Stevie. Stop, I’m just messin’.” Bucky chuckled and Steve snapped his head to look at him. Bucky was smiling wildly, his eyes bright with mirth and looking at Steve fondly.

 

Steve’s hare-brained mind was still caught up with the nickname, his mouth open in a permanent gape in awe with the young man in front of him. 

 

“You’re joking?” He squeezed out, finally.

 

Bucky snorted, leaning back and giving him a cocky grin. “I phrased it the way you’d definitely assume as I wanted, so it’s not your fault. You had that one coming though. Thought you’d never ask.”

 

As it turns out, Bucky wrote a paper for the guy in exchange for money.

 

“It’s the one thing I’m good at. You live alone as a kid, you pick up things about making money pretty quickly. In any case, I’m not necessarily helping him get away with anything. But if he’s dumb enough to let someone else write his work for him then more for me. I can’t complain.” He says, looking down at his books.

 

Steve felt his heart tighten at the information Bucky subtly slipped him. It was an act of trust if he was reading Bucky right and Steve felt incredibly honored at being shared with this information.

 

He eyed the way Bucky held himself and he could see the frays on his shirt, his books dog-eared as if he got it second-handed and his ratty shoes. It wasn’t the first time he noticed these things. He figured Bucky might be having financial problems from the first time they met and he’d always wondered, more than he probably should, why he came to be this way.

 

Knowing why now, he couldn’t help holding out his hand and gently taking Bucky’s on the table on his own. The young man stiffened before meeting his eyes, searching Steve’s face for something and he must have found it because his eyes softened and he smiled at him.

 

“I’m okay, Stevie.” He says softly and Steve’s heart lurched in his chest. There’s that nickname again.

 

He smiled back, albeit tightly and gathered their dirty dishes to the sink.

 

Bucky worked on his subjects for a while and Steve tried not hover around. He sat on the couch, flipping through the channels while watching Bucky from the corner of his eyes. It was a few minutes before Bucky was shoving his books back to his bag and Steve resolutely stared at the TV, trying not to feel too disappointed that Bucky was going.

 

But then he wasn’t.

 

He walked around the counter, dropped his bag on the side of the couch and flopped down next to Steve. Steve fiddled with the remote, his chest fluttering with hope and warmth and finally let out a smile as Bucky snatched the device from his hands and turned the channel to a random movie.

 

He’s pretty sure he was smiling through the whole film and if Bucky noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos! Here's another chapter!

It was a random day when Dr. Banner asks him for help as an assistant for his lecture.

 

“The guy who usually assisted me caught a cold today and he called in a bit late. I can’t find anyone else to work the projectors at the moment.” Dr. Banner explains, looking a bit stressed and Steve was only quick to agree to the task.

 

It took a while for the man to teach him how to operate the devices but by the time of the lecture, he was educated enough to make it work. Dr. Banner—“call me Bruce”, was surprisingly patient with his slow intake on the tech and it was a bit frustrating for him because he was usually good at technology back in the army. Granted, civilian tech and military tech are two different things.

 

Students filtered through the doors and Steve felt awkward sitting there, trying to make himself smaller on his chair unsuccessfully. A few of them gave him appreciative looks which didn’t help at all with the anxiousness he felt.

 

He glanced at another group of students entering the lecture hall, talking cheerfully with each other to avoid the stares. It was an odd combination of people, a pretty girl with red hair, a boy with big brown eyes, a raven-haired young man and a brunet with long hair twisted on a bun. He could tell they were extraordinary, the other kids giving them a wide-berth.

 

Then the brunet raised his eyes at him and they widened comically as he halted on his steps.

 

Steve blinked and took in Bucky’s face, his own eyes widening. Of course it was Bucky.

 

“Buckaroo? What’s up, what’s going on?” The boy with brown eyes asked him, coming to a stop but Bucky just stared at Steve unblinkingly. The guy glanced at him then back at Bucky. “Do you know that guy? Oh, wait. Is he--?”

 

Bucky blinked, his eyes snapping to glare at the guy. “No. He isn’t.”

 

Steve doesn’t get what they’re talking about but hearing Bucky’s denial, he suspected it wasn’t something the young man wanted him to hear. He dropped his gaze as soon as Bucky glanced back at him and tried to focus on the screen of the laptop in front of him. He felt the young man’s eyes on him and he stared harder on the texts, trying to remember how to operate the projectors he was just taught how to do.

 

Fortunately, Bruce came in a moment after, carrying his files and started the lecture. Steve concentrated on the task in front of him, determined to make it through the lecture while ignoring the eyes he felt on him the whole time.

 

It was the longest lecture in his life and by the time it was over, Steve was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Bruce helped him set back the equipment, thanking him over and over for his help, while the students scrambled out of the hall, chatting to themselves.

 

He shouldered the laptop and carried the bag for the projectors with Bruce going ahead to a meeting. He was walking out of the room when Bucky stepped on his way, making him stop on his tracks.

 

“Hey.” Steve says, giving the younger man a strained smile. Bucky’s friends don’t seem to be around and he doesn’t know why he didn’t go with them.

 

Bucky wordlessly shrug the strap of the laptop from Steve’s shoulder and transferred it on his own.

 

“Where do you need to take these?” Bucky asks, stepping by his side.

 

They walked together to Dr. Banner’s office and Bucky asks him why he was working as an assistant for his professor and Steve tells him the whole story behind it. He tells him about meeting Bruce through Dr. Foster who he met at the gym and her relationship with Thor. The conversation flowed from there as they put away the equipment; Bucky places the laptop on Steve’s desk while he goes to the storage room to drop the projectors.

 

When he enters back to the office, Bucky was standing in front of a bookshelf reading the titles. He stands there, looking at the young man, the curve of his back, his messy bun and his form fitting jeans. God, he was going to hell for that last one.

 

“Are these yours?”

 

Steve blinks, looking at the books Bucky was pointing at and nodded. “How do you know?”

 

He grins at him, his eyes amused. “They’re fiction. Dr. Banner teaches Theoretical Physics and Advanced Neuroscience. I don’t think he reads The Hobbit or King Arthur.”

 

Knowing Bucky is right, Steve blushes slightly, and sheepishly walks over to the shelf. His books were a reflection of who he was and Bucky seeing them makes him feel vulnerable and exposed. Strangely, it wasn’t an unpleasant realization. Probably because it was Bucky.

 

He takes out the book and hands it to the younger man. “I love this book. My mom used to read it to me when I was a kid.”  
Bucky paused briefly before taking the book from him. “How many times have you read it?”

 

“I can’t even remember. Probably more than 20 times? I haven’t read it since I graduated high school but I remember how I used to imagine magic and dragons running along the woods behind our house.” He says, chuckling at the nostalgia of looking at the rest of his books.

 

“Why haven’t you read it again? It’s your favorite, right?”

 

Steve swallows for a second, eyeing the books on the shelves. He brought his books to the office mostly because he doesn’t like having them in his apartment. When he moved back to New York, he had trouble unpacking his old boxes, especially ones keeping his mom’s things. Right after shipping to camp training, he left his childhood home to his distant relatives. Five months later, they sent him his and his mom’s things to base and he’d kept all of them. Sarah Rogers had been a hoarder of odd things, keeping all his coloring books from when he was five and all his certificates from school. Always so proud of her son. He hasn’t touched the boxes until he was discharged, Sam helping him sort through the old stuff, pulling him out of his head when he stares off, remembering his childhood with his mother. He gave away some of the things, keeping the books and his mother’s hand-knit blankets.

 

Bucky looks at him when he doesn’t answer. Steve tries his best not show anything on his face but when he feels Bucky’s fingers on his wrist, he doesn’t think he’s all that successful.

 

He lets himself focus on the younger man’s touch, holding off the onslaught of memories. He breathes slowly, his eyes averted from Bucky’s intense gaze.

 

When he finally looks up, he gives him a grateful smile before carefully pulling his wrist away. Bucky lets him, watching him with his understanding eyes.

 

“I’m okay, Bucky.” He says, taking a step back against his instinct to get closer, to pull the younger man into a hug.

 

Bucky just stares, looking at Steve before he nods and looks at the shelves again.

 

Steve clears his throat to dispel the tension between them. “So…did you tell your friends about me?” He asks casually, rounding the table and fusses with the folders on the surface.

 

When Bucky doesn’t say anything, Steve lifts his head to look and he blinks in confusion. Bucky was looking down his shoes but Steve doesn’t miss the slight flush on his face. His heart slams on his chest, staring in disbelief at the sight.

 

“Bucky. What did you tell them about me?” Steve asks, leaning over the table slightly, trying to get a good look of his face.  
Bucky honest-to-god shuffles on his feet, and flushes even more. He meets Steve’s eyes briefly before looking away again. Steve stares, his mouth gaping a little.

 

“Nothing.” Bucky denies but he sounded guilty. “Just told them you kinda helped me out a bit before. Not a big deal.”

 

Steve feels his mouth lift in a big grin, seeing Bucky blushing for the first time. His ears were pink, his cheek flushing in the most gorgeous way. Jesus, this kid was gonna be the death of him.

 

Bucky clears his throat, looking at a point behind Steve’s shoulder. Steve continues to look at his face, fascinated. When it doesn’t look like he’ll say anything, Steve takes pity on him.

 

“Do you have any more classes today?” He asks, smiling widely.

 

Bucky shakes his head, finally looking back at Steve. “I’m done today. That was the last one.”

 

“I’m kinda craving some cheeseburgers. You wanna come with? I know a good place.” He asks, tugging on his sling bag.

 

Bucky looks at him for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable. Then he nods. Steve swings the bag over his shoulder, smiling brightly and rounding the table.

 

Steve pays for the food despite Bucky’s protests at the hole-in-the-wall diner he frequents. Steve studies Bucky’s face as he bit into the bun, sees his eyes widen and he grins at him, smug. Bucky just scoffs at him, telling him he’ll get the bill next time and it makes Steve’s heart flutter hopefully in his chest. Next time.

 

*** 

 

His therapist tells him he’s doing good, that he looks different from the first time they met and Steve tells her about Bucky. She smiles at him the whole time, nodding every once in a while to encourage him to go on. Then she suddenly interrupts halfway through the story about Bucky’s textbooks.

 

“So, Bucky is a student then?”

 

“Yes. He’s taking mechanical engineering in NYU.” He says proudly.

 

She nods. “I see. A senior?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How old is he?”

 

“Uhh…21?” Steve isn’t too sure. Bucky said he was a senior though so it was probably around that.

 

Her therapist nods again but her eyes were cautious. “I see. Bucky knows about your time in the army, I take it?”

 

Steve shifts on his seat. “I didn’t tell him but I think he knows? He calmed me through a nightmare one time.”

 

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Steve flushes rapidly, realizing how must have sounded.

 

“He was sleeping on the couch when it happened! Outside the living room!” He sputters, his face red.

 

She eyes him for a moment before nodding and moving on to ask him about his work. He tells her, but his mind was distracted. She dismisses their session earlier than scheduled, seeing his restlessness and he leaves the office in a dampened mood.

 

*** 

 

When he gets back to his apartment, he was surprised to see Bucky sitting outside the door with a book on his lap. He raises his head when Steve steps into the hallway, smiling up at him.

 

Steve stares at him, his mind registering the way he twirls a pen on his finger, his jacket too big for him and his ever present backpack beside him. He scrambles to his feet, taking his things with him and facing Steve, his eyes bright.

 

He was so young. So much younger than Steve. He gets what his therapist seemed to be worried about. He was 33, he’s been to the Sandbox for more than half of Bucky’s life, and he was an insomniac. He wonders why a brilliant young man like Bucky would want to hang out with him. He should be with people his age. Have fun, be a normal college student and not here with _Steve of all people_ —

 

“What are you doing here?” He blurts.

 

The smile on Bucky’s face dims and no no no no no, he’s not smiling anymore and _it’s his fault_.

 

Bucky looks at him and Steve can’t stand looking back into those piercing eyes. He darts forward, pushing past the younger man and fishes his keys out of his pockets. His hands shake when he tries to insert the key to his doorknob. He can feel his eyes tear-up but he ignores it, tries again.

 

He drops the keys on the third time and he lets out a curse under his breath. He bends down to grab them back but another set of hands get to them first. He doesn’t look up as Bucky opens his door, doesn’t lift his head as Bucky tugs him inside and manhandles him to the couch.

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything as he stands beside the couch. Steve breathes slowly, blinking the wetness in his eyes and lets out a sniff. Slowly, he sees Bucky move towards him and he tenses up but keeps his eyes on his lap. He stops in front of Steve for a moment, waits and for the life of him, Steve can’t deny him anything. He looks up.

 

Gray-blue eyes look into his and Steve feels his throat constricting. Like a starved man, he looks at Bucky’s face, his brows, the bridge of his nose, his perfect mouth, the dip on his chin. He was beautiful. And strong, and brave and kind.

 

Steve knew he was screwed the moment those piercing eyes met his the first time, defiant and challenging.

 

Bucky slowly extends a hand to his face, giving him plenty of chance to move away. The warmth of his palm cupped over a cheek, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Steve couldn’t help but lean into the touch, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s.

 

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks gently, his eyes too bright as he looks at Steve.

 

It took a moment for him to answer, struggling to explain.

 

“I’m fucked up.” He whispers, voice straining with sadness. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me.”

 

Bucky surges forward, climbing into his lap and wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. He was squeezing tight, his knees digging on Steve’s sides and his cheek pressed against the side of his neck.

 

“Steve, _Steve_. Listen to me, you idiot.” Bucky whispers directly to his ear, his tone fierce. “You’re not _broken_ , okay? You don’t need fixing.”

 

Steve buries his face on Bucky’s neck, his arms curling around the body against him, sagging back on the couch.

“I don’t know about that.” He sniffs. “I’m sorry though. For being like this. I really _am_ sorry…”

 

Bucky pulls back slightly and suddenly grips Steve’s face with his palms, the look on his face fierce. Steve helplessly stares back at him.

 

“Listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for. Okay? Doesn’t matter what anybody else says. You’re fine. You’re recovering from whatever it was that happened. Nothing is wrong with you. And you absolutely _do not need fixing_.” He says, his eyes looking straight into his, breaking Steve from inside out.

 

“How do you know that? You don’t know what I’ve done. I’m not a good person. If you knew, you’d never—you’d _leave_.” He sobs, his hold on him tightening as the thought of Bucky leaving, just walking out the door sends him into panic.

 

Bucky’s eyes soften. His grip on Steve’s face turning into a gentle cradle, his thumbs rubbing circles on his cheek. “I won’t. I swear, I won’t. You’re right, I don’t really know much about you. But you are a good person. I’ve seen it. You are, Steve. Trust me on that.”

 

Steve sobs, tears rolling down his cheeks but Bucky wipes them away, just like that.

 

“That’s not fair. How am I supposed to say no to that?”

 

Bucky smiles at him. “Don’t. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. I’m smart, you know.”

 

Steve drags him for another hug, burying his face to Bucky’s shoulder. He can’t disagree with that last one. He takes a deep breath, letting the scent of Bucky engulf him. “Alright…I trust you.” He mumbles to his shoulder, feeling the fight leave him, not even sure what he was fighting anymore.

 

Bucky wraps himself closer and mashes his face to Steve’s neck. “Good. I’m glad to know you’re smarter than you look.”

 

A laugh rips out of Steve’s throat, surprising him and he feels Bucky smile against his skin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF. That's it. The whole chapter is FLUFF! Again, unbeta'ed.

Steve gives Bucky a copy of his key to the apartment. They actually had a stare-down about it, which surprised both of them when Steve doesn’t budge, insists it was the most convenient arrangement for both of them. It actually opened up a lot of doors they hadn’t thought to open until now.

 

He was fixing Mrs. Kensington’s broken sink when he hears his phone go off. He wiggles out from underneath the sink and pulls out the device from his pocket. He smiles when he sees who it was.

 

“Hey.” He says as soon as he answers the call.

 

“Where are you? Your door was unlocked.” Bucky says, his tone irritated.

 

Steve straightens out, sees the old woman shuffle into the room and smiles at her.

 

“Are you home? I’m at door 302 across the hall. Wait a sec, I’m almost done.” He says, watching the old lady pull something from her fridge.

 

“Oh.” He says in a soft tone. After a second, “Okay, I’ll wait,” Bucky says then hung up.

 

Steve shakes his head fondly at the phone when he brings it down from his ear and turns to the lady. She smiles at him as she shoves a Tupperware into his hands.

 

“Such a nice young man you are, Steven.” She says, pulling him down to pat his cheek. Steve laughs bashfully, giving her a hug.

 

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He gestures to the container and she gives him one more pat before letting go. He checks the faucet, making sure it was easy enough to open but without leaking, and wraps his tools before bidding the lady goodbye.

 

“Bucky?” He calls when he stepped in to his apartment.

 

“In the kitchen!”

 

Bucky was looking inside his fridge, back turned from him when he rounded the hallway, muttering under his breath.  
“You really need to get some groceries, Steve. Every time I look in here, its making me sad. What is this, is this a carrot? What do you need a carrot for when you don’t even cook? And are those tomatoes? You can’t even make a salad with these. You need lettuce. Carrot and tomato salad? Nuh uh, you need lettuce. And mayonnaise.”

 

Steve smiles fondly at the sight, listening to him grumble under his breath as he pulls out a water bottle and drinking from it. The young man turns around, sees him standing there and then suddenly he was having a coughing fit.

 

Alarmed, Steve rushes forward, putting his tool box and the container on the table, and puts his hand on Bucky’s back. Bucky sputters but waves a hand as if to say he’s okay and Steve carefully rubs his back, still looking worried.

 

“Are you okay?” He asks. Bucky coughs for a few seconds more before nodding.

 

“Jesus. That was nasty.” The younger man states, his voice a little hoarse from the coughing.

 

Steve grins at him. “Nah, asthma attacks are much worse, trust me. Thank god, I haven’t had any of them since high school. You okay now? All cleared up?”

 

Bucky suddenly glares at him, his nose a little red and despite the abruptness, Steve finds the look adorable.

 

“Whose fault do you think it was?” He glares, shrugging off Steve’s hand from his back.

 

Surprised at the outburst, Steve takes a step back. “What? What did I do?”

 

Bucky clicks his tongue, gestures his hand broadly towards Steve. “What the hell have you been doing anyway? Were you walking around looking like… _that_? Jesus, just give everyone around a heart attack, why don’t you.” He gestures wildly at Steve who immediately looks down on himself in confusion.

 

His shirt was wet, plastered against his chest. His nipples were visible underneath it.

 

Steve sputters. He hadn’t been paying attention when he ran downstairs after fixing Mrs. Kensington’s leaky faucet. He’d passed a few people on the way and they’d all given him a long look. But his mind had been preoccupied, couldn’t say past a quick ‘Hi’ to everyone, he hadn’t noticed his own disheveled appearance.

 

He pulled the fabric away from his chest but couldn’t quite manage to grasp the slippery cloth and it snapped back to his skin in a soft, wet smack.

 

There was a pause, both of them looking at his chest, and then Bucky was groaning, a drawn-out sound of frustration, muffled by his hands covering his face.

 

“ _Damn it_ , Steve.”

 

Bucky was pushing past him in hurry, his hands still covering his face as if he can’t stand to look at Steve for the moment. Steve gaped at him, eyes wide as he followed Bucky down the hall, stopping just outside the kitchen as he watched the younger man disappear into the bathroom.

 

Steve stands there for a minute, his mind whirling through what the hell just happened. He couldn’t think past the look on Bucky’s face.

 

He wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew what he looked like. He was fit, what with all the time he spent at the gym, and his face didn’t look too bad either. He was attractive; he’d had a few girlfriends back in high school just like everybody and he noticed how people looked at him when he went out. But since he went back, he’s never had the opportunity for those sorts of activities and frankly, he just wasn’t interested.

 

But the look on Bucky’s face just now before he hid it behind his hands. It was _that_ kind of look.

 

Was he possibly _attracted_ to Steve?

 

The thought suddenly made his throat dry, his breath hitch and his face flush. _Oh God_.

 

He hastily shoved the thought out of his mind, suddenly aware of everything. He looked down on his drenched state, and made his way to his room. He could hear the water running as he passed through the bathroom and forced his feet to take him all the way to his bedroom, trying not to tune in to the sounds of Bucky moving inside.

 

He changed into a dry shirt before settling into the couch and putting the TV on. Bucky emerged a few minutes later, his expression forcefully casual as he drops next to Steve.

 

Not knowing what to say, Steve fidgets with the remote, side-eyeing the young man on the other end of the couch. He cleared his throat pointedly.

 

“Umm, wanna go with me to the store?”

 

“Sure.” Bucky answers before he even finishes the question, abruptly standing up.

 

Steve hesitates for a second before getting to his feet. They stare at each other for a moment, Bucky looking a bit flushed, and Steve feeling awkward.

 

“I’ll just go get my wallet. Then we’ll go.” He says eventually.

 

Bucky nods, too quickly, clearly feeling as awkward as Steve, before looking away.

 

The trip to the store, just a few blocks from the apartment was silent but Steve could feel Bucky sticking close to his elbow, it was endearing. He glanced down occasionally at the younger man and it was only natural to give him a smile whenever their eyes meet. Bucky returned the smiles, hesitantly at first. By the time they arrived at the store, Bucky was relaxed, his smiles coming more naturally at Steve’s prodding.

 

“What about this one?”

 

Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No. Not if you want a hole in your stomach.”

 

Steve slowly puts down the mix back, reaching for the next one but Bucky slaps his hand away. “ _No_. Are you serious? What have you been eating? Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

 

Bucky made his way through the store, chattering to Steve about the kind of stuff he shouldn’t buy. It was amazing how knowledgeable he was about a product, weighing the pro’s and con’s, comparing them with the brands and was incredibly passionate about the market prices of the stuff.

 

Steve trailed along, pushing the cart behind Bucky as he examined two different boxes of pancake mix. The store wasn’t too crowded at the moment and Steve watched as Bucky muttered to himself, a slow smile spreading on his face, a bright and warm feeling bubbling on his chest.

 

Steve watched as Bucky clicked his tongue and put the boxes back on the shelves.

 

“Yeah, no. It’s cheaper to make it from scratch anyway. Let’s go to the freezer section. I think they have some fresh eggs there.” Bucky turns to him then, meets his eyes, and wow, he’ll never get over how bright they are.

 

“Sure.” He says easily, _Anything you want_ , he almost adds.

 

Bucky continues to chatter away, explaining to him the difference of a ready-mix pancake and those made from scratch while Steve nods along, pushing the cart wherever Bucky leads them in the store.

 

At the beverages, Steve packs two jugs of orange juice and Bucky gives him a narrow-eyed look, before sighing and nodding begrudgingly. Steve just grins. Bucky loves orange juice.

 

A group of young men were standing in front of the beer section, laughing and jostling about. One of them glances at their direction and beamed before calling out.

 

“Barnes!”

 

Bucky startles minutely before turning and returning the guy’s grin. “Rhodey! Hey.” Then he comes over to them, exchanging fist bumps and claps to the shoulder with the rest of the gang.

 

Steve remains where he is, watching them interact.

 

“What’s up, man? You busy tonight? We’re having a party at Tony’s later. Why don’t you come join us?” The guy asks, his mates sounding their encouragement.

 

Bucky laughs, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. “Nah, I already have plans. Besides, Tony would probably be a pain in the ass, you know when he gets drunk. And I hate babysitting him.”

 

The guy laughs, claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t we all know it. Pepper’s a saint for putting up with his shit. Living with him must have been a nightmare.”

 

“Oh, it was. Why do you think I got an apartment?” Bucky says lightly but he must have seen something on Bucky face because his eyes softened.

 

“Hey, none of that. You all get along really well.” He says, his tone soft.

 

Bucky nods. “I know. Still hate babysitting him though.”

 

The guy laughs again, so does Bucky. The other guys leave them alone to check out the beverages after another round of fist bumps. Then as if the senses eyes watching them, the guy suddenly glances at Steve, his eyes shift back and forth from him and Bucky. Noticing his friend’s divided attention, Bucky looks at him over his shoulder and blinks, as if he completely forgot he left Steve standing there like an idiot.

 

“Oh.” He says, his eyes wide.

 

Feeling incredibly awkward, Steve forces a smile out. “Hey.”

 

The guy looks at them, his eyes drifting from Bucky to Steve. “Hello sir.”

 

Hiding a wince at the honorific, Steve walks over to them like he should’ve done in the first place. Bucky stares at him like he’d never seen him before, and Steve doesn’t think too much on that before he gets hurt.

 

The guy surprises him by holding out his hand. “Captain Rogers. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

 

Steve startles at the title but accepts the hand. He feels Bucky’s eyes snap to him at the mention of the rank but doesn’t look back. They never talked about his military career, anyway.

 

He chuckles against the awkwardness in the atmosphere, forcefully loosening his shoulders. “I’m retired so it’s just Steve now. Haven’t been called Captain since I got back. I’m surprised someone recognizes me here, to be honest.”

 

The guy nods, grinning at him. “Most of my family served in the military, so I couldn’t help hearing about you. You might have met my grandfather? General Fury?”

 

“Oh! You’re Nick’s grandson?” Steve exclaims.

 

The guy nods, smiling broadly at the recognition on Steve’s face. “James Rhodes, sir. Granddad talks about you a lot actually. It’s good to finally met you in person.”

 

Steve grins, then glances at Bucky beside him. His smiles freezes in place at the look of awe on the young man’s face.

 

Rhodey watches them, his eyes calculating before clearing his throat. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other. James, you didn’t mention about knowing the Captain before.”

 

Bucky blinks, looking at his friend. “I did tell you about him.” He says, his voice confused.

 

The guy frowns for a second before his eyes cleared up. “Oh! So Captain Rogers is _The Steve_?”

 

Without his permission, Steve’s eyebrows shot up as he looks at Bucky, who in turn looks up at him, and suddenly blushes furiously.

 

Next to them, Rhodey lets out an amused, “whoops” but Steve just stared at Bucky’s flushing face, his eyes darting away. Steve feels his mouth stretch into a broad smile.

 

“I’m _The Steve_?” He murmurs, too softly and Bucky flushes even more. “What have you been telling your friends, Buck?”

 

Rhodey lets out a laugh and Steve glances at him. “He’s even worse than my granddad.”

 

“Rhodey! _Stop_.” Bucky hisses at him, glaring at his friend, the tips of his ears red.

 

The guy laughs, his eyes bright with amusement. “Alright, alright. I gotta go anyway.” He says flippantly. He turns to Steve. “It was really nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for your service.”

 

Steve shakes his hand again. “Thanks. You too. Send my regards to Nick.”

 

“He’d like that. I’ll see ya at school, James.” Rhodey gives them a wave as he goes, his eyes bright with amusement.

 

They stand there for a moment, Bucky not meeting Steve’s eyes and Steve grinning broadly at the brunet next to him.

 

“So…”

 

“Say another word and I’ll kill you.” Bucky glares at him. 

 

Steve just smiles, feeling elated and the bubbling in his chest even stronger than before. The brunet lets out a sound of frustration.

 

“Stop _smiling_ , damn it.”

 

And he doesn’t stop, even when he finds out Bucky replaced his blueberry jam with strawberry. He hates strawberries.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Got busy with the holidays. There's some additional tags for this chapter, so watch out for it. I still have some plot holes to cover so, this fic might take a while. Please let me know what you think in the comments. Still unbeta'ed.
> 
> Also, you might notice I haven't added titles for the chapters, so sorry about that. I'm not good with titles. If you have suggestions please let me know.

Everything was going well for a time now. Steve had a routine, slightly altered now that Bucky became a regular part of his life, which always surprised him when the younger man just suddenly pops into his apartment in a random schedule. It didn’t bother him whether it was 7 in the morning or in the middle of the night, that’s why he gave Bucky a key for. He always grumbles about the contents of Steve’s fridge, telling him to eat something else besides cold noodles because apparently, “It’s making me sad your taste buds are practically nonexistent, Steve, I could probably feed you mac and cheese from a box and you’d say _it’s delicious_ ” which yeah okay, he does have a point. He sleeps over sometimes, holding up fort on the couch with Steve’s spare blankets, looking all too innocent and doe-eyed in the mornings, it’s giving Steve heart palpitations. When he’s not there, his presence is undeniable with the things he would leave on Steve’s random surfaces, like notebooks on the coffee table and hair ties on the entryway bowl for keys. The sight of the spare toothbrush on the bathroom next to his makes him think the walls are closing in on him and makes it hard to breathe, but in a definitely good kind of way that leaves him elated and strangely satisfied. 

He doesn’t know how easy he had it going until it wasn’t.

He doesn’t even know what went wrong. It was a slow day, he’d meet up with Sam for brunch, did a few hours on the gym, even made himself eat a salad for once. It might have been something from the television, or the sound of a car backfiring from the road outside the window, but one second he was sifting through his mails, the next, he was plastering himself on the wall, his eyes darting around in wild panic.

It was overwhelming, his senses going high wire and a rising urgency in his movements. He was breathing hard, his breaths turning into pants, and the wall on his back was the only thing keeping him upright. He knows what this is, his therapist had a name for it and he’s experienced it far too many times to mistake it for what it isn’t. That doesn’t make it easier.

He knew it was bound to happen eventually, sooner than later. But he’s still not prepared for the onslaught of emotions going through him in flashes, too quick for him to identify. It was mostly panic, like if he stays in one position for too long, something was bound to get him but moving was physically impossible, uncertainty of the danger freezing him in place. But most of all, under the rising alarm; it was cold, crushing terror.

He launches himself away from the wall, knocking down a few things on the floor, not caring about anything but getting to the bathroom. He drops to his knees next to the toilet seat and throws up everything in his stomach. The sharp stench of bile causes him to double over and heave again and again, feeling his throat gag painfully, the bitter taste of bile in his tongue. 

He throws up until he can’t for minutes; fear was clogging through his nose, his ears and his breathing turns into short, sharp gasps. He huddles in between the small space of the toilet and the wall and fits himself into a tight ball. The only sound he can hear is his frantic heartbeat and crying. He realizes with a start that the sobs are coming from him, and he cries even harder, like a small child. 

Except he wasn’t a child anymore, just a pathetic excuse of a human being, useless and dispensable. He should have just died, somewhere in the desert, in the middle of a mission, because at least he’d die with purpose. Instead, he survived every mission given to him, executing it perfectly, and he fucking survived. And for what? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. In the army, he was useful, he had missions, now he was just drifting away.

He gave up the only thing he was good at. It killed him to do it, a part of him that wanted to make himself useful, do something with his life. But Peggy was _right_. It was destroying him, all those missions. Peggy was right, and so he quit. It was a mistake. All of it. It was a mistake to take on the army in the first place, for letting it destroy him, for staying so damn long, and it was a mistake, quitting. Everything was just a big pile of mistakes, of bad decisions and his pathetic need of having a purpose. He tries to ignore it every time he sees the news headline and it worked for a while. Now, it was crushing down on him, heavy and unrelenting.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, huddled on a corner, hiding from the world. It was dark outside, so it was probably a few hours when he resurfaces as he sees the lights coming on outside the living room. There was movement outside the hallway and he hears footsteps before a figure stands on the opening of the door. He doesn’t even have the energy to raise his head, doesn’t have the energy to care whoever sees him that way.

“Steve? Are you in here?”

It’s like ice cold water pouring into his skin, jolting him into reality in a blink of an eye and he sickeningly realizes as dread creeps into his chest that he doesn’t want this particular person to see him like this. Anyone but _him_.

He tenses up slightly, exhaustion making his reactions sluggish, but he forces himself to stand slowly on wobbly legs and stepping into the light of the doorway. For all that he was, he didn’t want the best thing that happened to his life to realize what a fucking mess he really is.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He says, wishing the crack in his voice would go unnoticed.

He doesn’t look at Bucky on the doorway, because of course it was Bucky.

“What’s going on?” The softness in Bucky’s voice makes his eyes burn, but he ignores it in favor of formulating what to say.

“It’s okay. I got it.” He shrugs, glad Bucky can’t see his face clearly in the dark. “Listen—I’m, I’m not doing so great right now. You should probably...” For the life of him, he can’t say the word. “I mean, I think it’s probably best if you…go.”

“Steve? Are you okay?” Bucky steps inside finally, moving towards him and Steve braces himself for the reaction on Bucky’s face. He flips the light on and the faint gasp from the younger man makes him flinch.

“Not,” he tries saying but his voice cracks, “Not great. But I can handle it. It’s okay.”

“What the hell are talking about? You’re not okay!” Bucky suddenly exclaims. He moves into Steve’s space, raises his hands as if to touch him, but Steve was already taking a step back before he could help it. The hurt on Bucky’s face felt like a stab on Steve’s chest but he just can’t stand being touched right now.

“Steve?” Bucky inquires in a small voice.

“I’m sorry.” He forces out in gritted teeth. His head hurts, his skin was hypersensitive and he was hurting inside so much.

Bucky visibly retracts, withdrawing his hand and stepping back. A part of Steve wanted him to be stubborn, push through Steve’s boundaries and let him in, but the fear was gripping his throat, fear of letting someone see him for who he is, and Bucky was too important to risk and he had a feeling that if he let himself accept the touch, he’d break into a million pieces.

“What can I do?”

The question throws him on for a second, before his heart swells in affection.

Bucky watched him with worried eyes in a safe distance, but determination was painted on the way he clench his jaw. “I’m not leaving you like this. Tell me what to do. How can I help?”

Steve felt his throat close up, his eyes burning but doesn’t let himself break. “Umm, I can handle it.” He tries; giving him an out, even though his heart preens with hope.

The younger man’s eyes flash with stubbornness. “I’m staying. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

Steve let the words wash through him, his eyes blurring with tears. He doesn’t let them fall, clinging on the thread of self-control.

“Or do you…need me to leave? Is that it? You’re scared _I_ can’t handle it?”

Bucky’s ability to read him like child’s play always surprised Steve pleasantly, but now, it just makes him feel vulnerable and guilty.

“I can take it.” Bucky says, his voice clear and sure, how can he be so sure all the time?

Slowly, Steve feels his chest loosen slightly. “I know you can, Bucky. But I don’t want you to.”

The younger man makes a noise of frustration, almost makes an aborted gesture to his hair before clenching his hands. “ _God_ , you’re stubborn.”

A laugh punched out of his chest at that, surprising them both and Bucky looked at him hopefully.

A small but genuine smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, looking down at the younger man fondly. “Don’t worry. You’re helping already.”

And he was, by being his own stubborn self, being Bucky.

“Really? How?” He asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

In response, Steve reaches out a hand slowly, carefully sweeping the hair out of the younger man’s brow. “Just…thank you for staying.” He says, tone soft.

Bucky was wide-eyed, looking up at him, surprise all over his expression and a thousand others, too quick for Steve to decipher.

“You…you’re welcome.” Bucky says eventually, his voice a little hoarse. Steve looks at him for a minute and drops his hand to the sleeve of Bucky’s hoodie. It was about the closest he can handle to touching.

Bucky looks at his hold on his sleeve, staring with his eyes wide before looking back up. “Uhh,” he starts, clearing his throat, “you hungry?”

The thought of food makes him wince, his mouth still tasting like bile. Bucky notes his reaction and nods. “Wanna watch a movie then?”

Steve nods in agreement, his shoulders loosening, but keeping his hold on Bucky. The younger man also seems unwilling to dislodge their only point of contact and was careful on his way out of the bathroom. Steve can’t find it in himself to be self-conscious at this point so he lets himself be guided into the living room. He sees the mess he left earlier and feels guilty but Bucky silently tugs on his sleeve to bypass the clutter and guide him into the kitchen.

“How long have you been in there?” Bucky asks, as he pulls a glass, and filling it on the tap. He silently nudges to him and Steve obeys, taking a sip and rinsing his mouth from the foul taste of sick. He must smell awful.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, but Bucky looks slightly stricken. “Not long, I think. Couple of hours. What time is it?” He asks, finally letting go of Bucky and washes his hands on the sink for good measure.

“It’s half past 9.” Bucky says, his voice soft.

“Oh. Not long, then. Don’t worry.” He reassures him, even though he remembers vaguely that it was 5 when he got home.  
Bucky clearly doesn’t believe him, but lets it go and steps in closer to his space. He holds out his wrist, as if an offering and looking petulant about it, daring Steve to reject his offer. Which, he won’t. Steve takes it, holding the fabric again and rubbing it between his fingers. There’s nothing more he would like but to wrap the younger man into a bear hug but he relents, contenting himself with the small point of contact. Bucky looks at his hand and nods, satisfied. They make their way back to the living room and ignoring the mess on the entry way, before sitting down on the couch.

Steve doesn’t realize how exhausted he is, until he’s sinking into the soft give of the couch and his eyes droop. Bucky stirs next to him, clicking on the remote.

“You’re gonna have to let me in, you know.” Bucky suddenly whispers, his voice laced with sadness.

Steve lets his eyes close, allowing himself to think of the possibility for a moment before pulling back and shrugging it off. It was too risky.

“You can’t push me away. I won’t let you.” Bucky continues, still whispering but with no less conviction. “You’re stuck with me, Steve Rogers. Whether you like it or not.”

It was the last thing he hears before he lets himself sink into blissful unconsciousness, tightening his hold on the sleeve between his fingers and feeling the heat of the body next to him. He lets himself have this moment, lets himself believe for a second that he’s allowed to have it. He lets Bucky’s words wash over him, relishing the warmth of the wonderful person next to him and chase away his worries.

For a moment, he lets go.

If Bucky said something to him after that, he doesn’t remember. He falls into a dreamless sleep for a long time in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my name on tumblr. It's all reblogs of Stucky fan-arts from fantastic artists, some of them NSFW so view with caution. Thank you for reading!  
> My tumblr : @myhoneybunny101


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Awkwardness. Darcy meets Bucky. Sorry for the late update guys! Been a bit busy with school stuff. I have a thesis to write so I might have a hard time updating for this fic. Sorry in advance! But I will try my best to finish it, so don't worry. The update might be completely random (per week) though so, bear with me.

Steve has never felt so small in his life. He’d been to the whole cycle of ups and downs, multiple times really, but he’s literally never felt this small, sitting across his best friend in a booth at their favorite coffee shop. A part of him wonders if this feeling of anxiety and pressure is similar to being called in the principal’s office because he’s forgotten what it felt like getting in trouble in school. He’s been scolded by his mother before, but it was mostly furious ranting and not cold, stony silence like the woman across him was projecting.

“So,” Darcy finally says, her tone falsely energetic, and Steve shifts on his seat with nervous energy, “I’ve been away for while, getting busy with research for grad school. Tell me, what have you been up to these days?” She even smiles, flashing her teeth at him, her lips bright red.

Steve docks his head, knowing he dug this hole for himself, and ashamed for it.

“Because I got this strange email from Sam, gushing about— _get this_ , ‘Steve’s new friend’ that I knew nothing about. I mean, it’s so strange, you know.” She continues, in fake cheerfulness, “Then, I thought, ‘Steve didn’t mention anything about a new friend in his emails, Sam must have been mistaken.’ Because, you know, he would have told me all about him.”

Across the table, Steve hunches on his shoulders, guilt crushing down on him like a huge weight.

Darcy looks at his posture for a moment then sighs, suddenly sounding tired. “Please tell me you have an excuse for it, at least? I thought you’d tell me something as important as this. I thought we were best friends…” The abrupt change of tone and the genuine hurt in it was the last straw.

Steve groans miserably, because that was just playing dirty. Darcy wasn’t above using the best friend on him, once in a while, just to get him to do what she wants. It worked perfectly. He hates her for it sometimes.

But still, Darcy looked genuinely hurt as she looks at him from behind her glasses and she’s always been tough as nails, made up of 90% sarcasm and playfulness. She only lets close friends see her vulnerable side, which was rare in of itself.

Steve rubs a hand across his face, the guilt only weighing him chest the longer she looks at him like that. “I’m so sorry, Dar. I really don’t know what I was thinking. I did mean to tell you, I swear. I guess, it’s just—I didn’t know how.”

And he did mean to tell her. It’s just that every time he writes something about Bucky, it always turned into a long winded paragraph or something. He doesn’t know how many messages he’s deleted every time he tries to tell her. And they’re not even very eloquent. He’d never admit it on gun point, but he’s used colorful words to describe the young man repeatedly in the messages. It was just embarrassing.

“Well,” Darcy shrugs, “why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Darcy listens to him patiently as he comes clean, telling her about everything that is about James Buchanan Barnes, or at least what he knows about him. She listens, taking occasional sips of her latte and patiently waits when he stops for a moment to think.

When he finally thinks he’s done, he runs his fingers through his hair and leans back. Darcy is silent, looking at him seriously with an unreadable expression on her eyes.

“Sounds like a nice guy.” Darcy finally comments and Steve chuckles nervously.

“I don’t really know much about his personal life, but he’s been a real help to me. I don’t really know why he hangs out with me but I guess he’s comfortable around me? I’m not sure.” He says, rubbing his knuckles to his brow sheepishly.

Darcy frowns at that. “You’re a disgustingly nice guy; of course he likes hanging out with you. I hang out with you. And not just because of your biceps.”

He laughs at that, which in turn causes her to smile. It was a brief thing before she turns her narrowed gaze at him again.

“I’m still upset with you, you know.” She declares. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

He nods gravely, turning serious. “I know. I’m sorry. Just tell me how I can make it up to you. I promise I’ll do anything you want.”

A slight chill goes through his spine when she smiles sharply and he realizes too late that it was the wrong thing to say.

*** 

Steve was a sweaty pile of nerves, and he thinks he might actually have a breakdown or something.

Next to him, Bucky looked a picture of calmness, a kind of stoic expression on his face which was not at all helping with Steve’s anxiousness. Jesus, he doesn’t know what to do.

“We could still turn around, you know. I’ll talk to Darcy, she’ll understand. I’ll say I got pneumonia or something.” Steve says, his knee bouncing on the floor of the taxi they were riding.

Bucky looks at him for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. You’re a terrible liar anyway.”

Steve exhales, biting his lip and looking for something, anything in Bucky’s face that might indicate he doesn’t want to do this. He’d stop the car in a heartbeat if Bucky says so. But Bucky just stares back at him steadily, his expression blank.

He sighs heavily, falling back on his seat with a slump. “I’m really sorry about this. Darcy is pretty adamant on meeting you and I wish I could just tell her no but a part of me also wants you guys to meet each other. The only thing that I don’t like about this situation is the fact that everybody else is gonna be there too.”

It must be all the nerves that are making his tongue loose because he’s usually not this honest around Bucky.

Steve had done absolutely everything Darcy made him do to make up for his offense and this was by far, the hardest. He was surprisingly fine spending hundreds of dollars on shoes and clothing, but asking Bucky to come to the party at Darcy’s place was absolutely the most difficult. Bucky had been surprised, shocked into silence before he agreed to go with him. It was like asking a date to prom night, which he remembers vaguely as traumatic and intense back in high school.

“Steve,” Bucky says and Steve opens his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them. “I’m okay meeting your friends, really. It’s no big deal.” He says, watching Steve with a slightly worried look.

Jesus, now he’s worrying the poor kid.

He straightens, managing a weak smile for Bucky. “No, I’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet you, to be honest. I’m more worried about you meeting them. They’re great folks and I love them but they’re a bit…umm, _nosy_.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip, the only real reaction he’s seen him slip out the whole ride. “They’re gonna be asking how we met, huh?”

Steve groans, imagining his friends pouncing on the younger man and feels dread pool down his chest. It was one of the reasons why he’d kept their friendship private. He knows Bucky didn’t like talking about his personal life and he’s only ever told Steve minimal information about himself and his family. He was okay with that, he doesn’t want the younger man to feel any pressure into telling him anything. He knows that if he asked, Bucky would tell him. But he doesn’t want to invade on Bucky’s life like that. As a person who likes his own privacy, he knows how hard it is to talk about personal stuff. He’d only talked about his mother to Bucky once. He’s not ready to spill his guts to anyone just yet. Not his therapist, not his friends and certainly not on Bucky.

The car stops in front of Darcy’s apartment building and Steve’s anxiety shoots up.

He turns to Bucky in haste. “We can still pretend we had something else going on. I’ll text Darcy you have a project you had to do. Or I’ll tell her you went out of the country! Yeah, that’s good. She’ll believe that. I think.”

Bucky laughs softly at that, his eyes crinkling adorably on the corners. Then he takes a deep breath, steeling himself before opening the door. Steve feels a surge of affection for the young man, coating the anxiety for a moment, absurdly proud of his bravery.

“No turning back now.” Steve says after paying the cab and pulling next to Bucky on the side walk.

“I’ll be fine, Stevie.” Bucky says, his tone slightly amused. “I’ve been to parties before, you know.”

“Yeah no. I know.” Steve nods, convincing himself that it’s gonna be okay as they make their way into the building.

As it turns out, he was right. About the pouncing on the young man like fresh meat. As soon as they stepped inside the door to the apartment, Darcy was on Bucky in a heartbeat Steve didn’t even have the chance to protest before she rushes him off with her to the other side of the room.

Steve could only spare him an anxious and apologetic look before the group was barreling on the young man.

It was a small party, barely 20 people present and he recognizes half of the people inside. There was Jane, her boyfriend Thor, Bruce and Doctor Selvig, an associate of Jane which Steve immediately greets when he sees them.

He watches Bucky and Darcy from the other side of the room carefully, ready to pull out the younger man the second he looks uncomfortable, probably like a creeper. Which, as it seems, wasn’t happening for a time now, because he was talking and smiling, occasionally laughing at what Darcy says. He glances at Steve for time to time, giving him a soft smile and Steve feels himself lit up from across the room.

Sam arrives with Natasha and Clint, immediately giving him hugs and chatting with the group. 

“Listen, I’m sorry man.” Sam says to him, pulling him away for a second from the group. “I told Darcy about your Bucky and it was completely my fault that he got pulled into this. I didn’t know you haven’t told her about him.”

Steve shakes his head, eyes finding (not _his_ ) Bucky and watching the way he laughs, relaxed and happy talking to Darcy and the few people surrounding him.

“It’s okay, Sam.” He smiles at him. “Clearly, I was worried about nothing. Darcy’s around his age, I should’ve known they’d get along.”

Sam nods, but stares at him briefly with an unreadable look on his face. “Alright. If you say so.”

He grins, finally relaxing his nerves. “Where’s Riley, by the way?”

“Oh, he’s in DC for business. Been away for a week now. He’ll be back tomorrow though.” Sam answers, easily jumping into a discussion about how the separation is killing him.

Natasha joins in for the conversation, showing him photos of her adorable kids from her phone, while Clint challenges Thor for a drink off. The party pretty much goes on from there, music and laughter drifting in the small space of Darcy’s apartment. Steve still watches as Darcy shows off her shoes to Bucky and everyone in the circle. He bashfully docks his head when she points at him from across the room and everybody swivels their heads to look at him. When he raises his head, Bucky smirks at him and he laughs softly.

After a while, Bucky comes over to his circle, Darcy nowhere in sight.

“Hey,” Steve grins at him, “you okay?”

Before Bucky could answer, Natasha cuts in. “Well, hello there! You’re James?”

Steve frowns at her in confusion. He’s pretty sure he’s never told Natasha about Bucky. Sam subtly shakes his head when he turns to look at him.

“Hello.” Bucky greets, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Natasha smiles at him, her expression delighted and Steve knows that look, he’s seen it too many times to mistake it for anything else. He groans internally. Here we go.

She launches into a series of questions, nothing personal or invasive but Steve keeps his attention on their conversation just in case. Knowing Natasha, she’s probably made it seem harmless to an onlooker but before unconsciously, you’d be spilling state secrets without even knowing it.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take a turn for the worse. And Steve gets to learn all sorts of things about Bucky so it was nice. Things like his school load, which was impressive.

“So you skipped how many grades?” Sam was asking.

“Umm, I skipped 7th and 8th grade. Just two.” Bucky says, sipping on his solo cup, relaxed but still timid.

Everyone nods approvingly, completely charmed with the young man. Steve couldn’t keep the smile off his face, for the life of him. So that's why he was too young for being a senior. Steve hadn't really given it much thought before. Jesus, he was dumb.

Bucky smiles bashfully at the reaction, which in itself was endearing. “Nah, it’s nothing. A friend of mine skipped high school altogether so, it’s nothing compared to him.” 

“It’s not nothing, Buck.” Steve surprises himself saying, and everyone stares at him. “I’m just saying I’ve never skipped a grade and it was hard enough already. Not everyone can do what you do, Bucky.” He adds, looking at the younger man fondly. 

No one says anything for a moment. The silence was loaded, and he fidgets underneath the looks everyone was giving him. What now? What did he say?

Sam clears his throat. “Well, using yourself as an example is not very convincing, Cap. Dunno why you’re so proud.”

Thankfully, everybody seems to find that funny and the conversation flowed easily again. Steve tried to keep up, but he was confused, not sure why everyone seemed to watch him and Bucky’s interactions so closely.

“Who wants cream puffs?” Darcy appeared by his side, holding a tray full of sweets and the circle cheered happily, as she held them out.

Bucky beamed as he picked one for himself and bit into it ravenously. He had a sweet tooth, which only added to all his adorable features. Bucky Barnes; grumpy on mornings, coffee addict and had a sweet tooth. 

He held a napkin to the younger man, gesturing to the side of his mouth. Bucky flushed slightly before accepting it with a word of thanks. No one was meeting his eyes when he looked up, not even Sam and he tries not pay so much attention. _What the hell is it now?_

Darcy pulls him away from the group for a moment, something about breaking out the expensive wine now that the guests have had too much to drink and smaller glasses. Steve reached for the top shelf, pulling out the bottle where he was ordered to stash it last time.

“It’s a good strategy. I can’t reach it up there so no accidentally drinking it for no reason. Now, I have a reason.” Darcy says, accepting the bottle and reaching for the corkscrew. Steve lets her open the bottle, learning earlier in life that women are tougher than most men think they are. His mom certainly was, and there’s Peggy, Natasha, Jane and Darcy. He was surrounded by women who could take him out with minimum effort and he was absolutely okay with it.

Darcy pours them each a glass and Steve accepts his without protest. He doesn’t usually drink but, what the hell. One glass couldn’t cause that much harm.

“He’s a good kid, Steve.” Darcy suddenly says. “I’m glad you guys met. And I don’t think he stays with you for your biceps either.” 

Steve’s not sure how to take that, frankly unsure of what Bucky thinks. “I’m glad we met too.” He just says.

Darcy grins at him. “So? Have you thought about making a move yet?”

“Wh-What?” He sputters. “What move?”

She rolls her eyes at him, sipping the glass elegantly. “Everyone can see you like him, buddy. But knowing you, it’ll probably take ages before you get on with the program. So what’s the plan?”

He gapes at her, his eyes darting from her to the view in the living room. “What do you mean everyone? What?”

“Dude, you should see your face when you look at him. I swear I could see hearts in your eyes.” She laughs while Steve flushes red as a tomato.

“Oh my god, was I that obvious? Is that why everybody kept looking at us?” He groans, covering his face with his hands. Jesus, he should’ve known he’d suck at hiding his feelings. This is another reason why he doesn’t want his friends to know about Bucky.

A horrible thought passes his mind and he groans again. “Oh my god, does Bucky know?”

Darcy smirks, delighted by his distress like the horrible person that she is, just shrugs. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

With that, she saunters back to the living room, taking the bottle with her. Everyone cheers at the sight of the drink, except Steve who downs his glass in one gulp, standing at the door of the kitchen.

He stares at the scene before him, of his friends and Bucky, feeling nervous and excited at the same time. He can’t decide if coming here tonight was a good thing or he just condemned himself into a life of pain.

Bucky sees him standing there and he waves him over. Steve, ever the obedient puppy he is, does as he is commanded. As soon as he comes up next to him, everybody looks at them and Steve doesn’t know how to hide his flush, opting instead to stuff his face with the cream puffs.

It was gonna be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not from the US so I was confused on the education system. Please tell me in the comments if I messed up too badly. I'll try and fix it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am reposting this chapter because I made an offensive remark about an issue I haven't been researching about that has been pointed out recently. I am extremely sorry about that. I know the damage has been done and the only thing I can do to amend it is to take the whole sentence down. I'm sorry again. It was not my intention but it still happened. I can only apologize for causing distress. Thank you.

“Uhh, could you…repeat that?”

Steve had to have misheard him. Putting down his book, he turned to face the younger man standing on the mouth of the hallway with a pinched look on his face. Bucky’s posture was slightly defensive, his chin tilted high and his eyes glinting with challenge.

“I _said_ ,” Bucky gritted out between his clenched teeth, “Will you please come to the party with me.” It wasn’t even a question this time. He looked like he’d throw a punch if Steve ever asked him to say it again.

As if Steve would ever deny him anything, but Bucky doesn’t know that so…

“Uhh, yeah sure.” He says, still eyeing the young man. It was weird that Bucky still seemed reluctant to ask him any favors, when he’s helped Steve so much since they’ve met. He’d like it more if the younger man was more open and ask him things. Probably not about his schoolwork though because he’d be useless at that.

Bucky visibly sagged with relief, his whole stiff demeanor relaxing. “Really?” He still asks, his voice a contrast from earlier.

“I’m sure.”

Bucky nods, shifting his eyes away and looking sheepish.

Realizing that was the end of it, Steve stood and went to fetch a glass of juice from the fridge. He made a mental note to resupply the stock he bought, it was draining fast.

Back in the living room, Bucky had finally moved from where he stood and sat himself on the couch right where Steve had been earlier. He looked stressed, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the back of the couch.

Silently, Steve sat on the coffee table in front of him, pushing the glass on his limp hand to wordlessly will him to drink. He tiredly obeyed, guzzling the liquid in half before pushing it back to Steve, and sighing heavily.

“You okay?” Steve asked, putting down the glass on the table beside him.

Bucky nodded, his eyes half-lidded and giving him a tired smile. “Just exhausted. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, sitting on the couch beside him. He picked up the book, leaned back and waited.

Slowly, Bucky presses up on his side before he dropped his head on Steve’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. A small smile spread on Steve’s face as he opened the book, letting the warmth of the body next to him sooth his entire existence.

“I know what you’re doing.” A soft mumble from the sleepyhead on his shoulder. “Giving me juice and making me all pliant, you jus’ wanna cuddle me, doncha?”

An equally soft chuckle escaped him, careful not to jostle the younger man. “Busted.”

“Mmmmhn.”

“What was that? Do you wanna get up?”

“ _Noooooo._ ”

Laughing quietly, Steve drops his book and arranges them both for a more comfortable position, with Bucky laying on top on him, his arms around his waist. Bucky snuggles closer, pressing his forehead on Steve’s neck. Steve lets go of his reservation, taking advantage of the loose body against him and full-on cuddles the living shit out of Bucky.

“I knew it. You’re just a cuddle slut despite all your muscles. What even is this?” Bucky murmurs, his breath tickling Steve’s collarbone, thumping his chest lightly with the back of his hand. “Aren’t you gonna ask about the party?” He asks distractedly.

Steve doesn’t care about parties, never been a fan of them ever since and alcohol was something he doesn’t agree with but drinks out of obligation sometimes. But, yeah, he’ll go since Bucky asked him to.

“Just sleep, Buck. It’ll be fine.” He mumbles, feeling the stress of Bucky’s shoulders as he rubs them, his lungs breathing in the smell of skin and shampoo. Bucky took a shower before he went to his apartment, then.

Bucky’s response was a snuffle followed by a sleepy sigh. Steve smiled, and hopes to God he doesn’t have to pee for the next few hours at least. He’s got nowhere he needs to be.

*** 

Not asking about it turned out to be the biggest mistake of his life.

“Are you Steve Rogers?”

His brows wrinkled, he stares at the redhead outside his apartment door in confusion. It was barely 7 in the morning. “Yes, I am.” He says nonetheless.

The woman had a polite smile on her face but she was eyeing him critically. Even from a glance, she looked classy and intimidating and immediately reminded him of Peggy. He feels utterly inadequate standing on his shirt and sweatpants. He ought to be on his dress uniform and standing on attention.

Tamping the feeling, he forced out a smile despite his confusion and leans back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Would you like to come in?”

Thankful of the military habits beaten into him by years of training, he’s glad he keeps his place clean as the redhead paces into the living room and takes in the room. It felt like an inspection and Steve resisted the urge to wipe the invisible dust on his coffee table.

“My name is Pepper Potts. I’m a friend of James.” She suddenly says, after taking a seat. “He said you were his date for the Gala? I’m here to help you with the fitting for your suit.”

His brows furrowing, he slowly blinks and chooses to address the first thing that makes sense. “I’m sorry, but what Gala are you talking about?”

It was her turn to frown, looking at him in confusion. “The Maria Stark Foundation Gala?”

“The what?” He sputters, utterly thrown.

Both of them looked at each other with equal puzzlement. Recovering first, Steve clears his throat, trying to get his mind in order, ignoring a part of his brain that latched on the word ‘date’ earlier on.

“I’m sorry…but I’m a little confused. I’m not sure if it’s because of lack of sleep but I’m having trouble understanding you.” He confesses helplessly. “You must have gotten the wrong Steve because I don’t really remember anything about attending a Gala.”  
She smiles, still polite but with a hint of annoyance on it. “No, it’s quite alright. I’m sure I have the right apartment. Can I ask what exactly James, or Bucky as you know him, tell you about the Gala?”

He exhales, guiltily avoiding her eyes. “He just told me to go to a party with him. I didn’t ask about the details.”

Too classy to show her displeasure, she just nods and pulls out a phone from her handbag. She types a brief message before turning back to Steve. “The responsibility to fill you in about the event falls on me then. That is, if you would still like to go?”

“Oh. Yes, I would.” He says, because of course he’ll go. But he might be a little pissed.

She smiles, her eyes growing soft. “That would be nice. Thank you. Now, about the suit?”

Five hours later, Steve was a reluctant owner of three different kinds of 3-piece suits from the swankiest tailor shops in New York he would never be caught dead going into in his life. He tried asking for the receipt from Pepper but only got a sharp smile in return and he had a feeling he might have insulted her somehow by asking for it. He actually remembers seeing her before on campus, come to think of it, with Bucky’s friends.

It wasn’t until he was walking into his building, carrying the paper bags on one hand that he managed to process what just happened. There wasn’t a person in the world that didn’t know about the Stark Industries, and the Gala he was apparently attending was hosted by Howard Stark’s wife Maria for the Foundation. It was as big as the Rockefeller Foundation, which was saying something about the family wealth.

But, why was Bucky going to this kind of event? Steve couldn’t have guessed Bucky was involved with the higher class of the society. Was he a candidate of the Foundation for scholarship or something? It must be something like that. If Steve didn’t know Bucky would get mad at him, he’d have already offered to pay for the whole year’s tuition for the younger man. He was stubborn, probably as stubborn as Steve, and a stickler for making his way by his own abilities. Steve has seen that, the way he plowed through his books and the hours he would work.

Dread filled his chest as he discovers, he doesn’t actually _know_ the younger man than he thinks he does. He doesn’t know the details about his past, his struggles; he doesn’t even know when his birthday is!

Not knowing the last one was particularly upsetting and Steve resisted pulling at his hair in frustration. He didn’t mind not knowing about the trivial details about the younger man’s life before as long as he knew about the important bits. Like the way Bucky likes to sleep on his side, how he takes his coffee (lots of sugar), his love for old movies, the way he lits up like Christmas when he talks about his school projects. He figured he knew enough. That Bucky would tell him himself if it was something Steve needed to know.

His door was unlocked when he arrived, his heart turning heavy when he realized who was inside. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He doesn’t think he can handle whatever Bucky has to say to him at the moment.

Sure enough, the young man was pacing on his living room, his whole posture radiating anxiousness and his hair messy as if he’s been running his fingers over them like he’s seen Bucky do when he was stressed. He abruptly stops when he hears Steve enter the room, his eyes wide and upset. Seeing the guilt on his eyes was actually upsetting, but he doesn’t want to deal with it just yet.

They stare at each other for a moment; Steve wanting nothing more than to escape to his room and sleep the rest of the day away.

A cruel part of Steve wants to gloat at that Bucky felt guilty, but the exhaustion just leaves him hollow and empty. He drops the bag on a table near him to take his eyes of the younger man.

“I can explain.” Bucky suddenly propels himself forward, the words rushing out of him desperately.

Steve doesn’t raise his head, keeping still lest he gives in to his impulse to run.

“To be fair, I was going to tell you but you distracted me.” His tone was joking, but Steve just wasn’t in the mood to go along with him.

He feels a spike of anger at the jab, and he raises his eyes to give the younger man a glare.

“So you thought it would be a great idea to just send one of your friends to ambush me?” He couldn’t help growling out.

Bucky’s eyes were wide as he stared at him. “I didn’t intend for that to happen, Steve.”

“You couldn’t have warned me or something? I just had to find out from somebody else, like I always seem to do. When were you going to tell me?” He grits out rapidly, his tone hard.

The funny thing was, he wasn’t actually sure what exactly he was mad about. Sure, the whole thing could have gone down smoothly if Bucky had warned him earlier on, but it wasn’t something to lose his shit about. He just feels like he’s been thrust into a completely strange environment abruptly and he can’t do anything but ride it out blindly.

He was just in shock, damn it. Shocked that he knew next to nothing about Bucky’s life, that whatever they have between them might not be the same as how Steve sees it. And hell, he doesn’t even know what this was.

“I was going to tell you! Honest! It was just bad timing!” Bucky cries, his hands gesturing in front of him. He looked flustered, his eyes wild and panicked as he watches Steve get angry for the first time. Steve has never raised his voice on him like this.

Steve sighs heavily, so tired of the whole situation. He nods, defeated and looks at the door to his bedroom. Bucky must read his mind because in the next second, he was planting himself in front of it. Blocking Steve’s sole escape route.

He lets out a frustrated sound at that and abruptly turns to walk back to the front door, to go somewhere, anywhere not here. He feels trapped, utterly trapped in his own living room. He just wants to be alone for a second to he can actually hear his thoughts and not the roaring anger that overwhelmed him.

“No, wait! Okay, okay. I’ll tell you!”

He hears Bucky run after him, his feet loud against the floor and almost lashes out when he feels a hand wrap on his wrist, tugging him into a halt. Both of them were breathing hard, riled up and visibly tense, Steve even more so than Bucky. He barely stopped himself from wrenching his arm away, possibly dislocating Bucky’s shoulder from doing it.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky suddenly cries out, his voice sounding wet in Steve’s ears. “I’ll tell you anything you want, I swear. I’ll tell you right now, please…I’m sorry!”

The big, ugly sobs that followed were surprising, abruptly snapping Steve out of his mental breakdown and making him turn back to the young man behind him. His eyes widened as he took in the anguish on Bucky’s eyes, red-rimmed and fat tears rolling down his cheeks rapidly.

He was trembling, Steve realized as he turned fully to face Bucky. The grip on his wrist was tight, not letting Steve go as he moved. He was shaking so hard, his breath coming out as gasps and Steve feels his heart breaking at every gut-punched sound he made.

“Please…I’m so sorry…It was my fault. I’ll tell you, okay? Just don’t—I’m sorry.” He kept saying, looking at Steve with his big, sorrowful eyes and Steve helplessly feels the universe drop on him.

“Hey, hey. Bucky. Shhh, it’s okay. Why are you crying? Please stop crying.” He pleads, suddenly desperate to sooth what the young man was feeling even though he feels utterly clueless of what’s happening.

Bucky continues to cry, his face scrunched up as ugly sobs wreck his whole body. Steve feels so useless as he stands there, looking at the younger man. Slowly, he gently pries the hold on his wrist, causing a whimper from the young man as he tries to clutch desperately at Steve.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, Bucky.” Steve promises in the most sincere tone he can manage. He steps in close to the shorter man, carefully cradling his face in his palms and gently wipes the tears with his thumbs. “Shh, Buck. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

“B-But, you were…just now. You were gonna go _away_ just now.”

Steve lets out a distressed sound at that. “Shh…I’m sorry, Buck…I was upset. I just needed a moment. I’m sorry. Please stop crying.” He murmurs, his voice dropping low, attempting to sooth the younger man.

He slowly pulls at the younger man, guiding him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Bucky lets out an anguished cry and launches himself at Steve. The force of it makes Steve stagger slightly before righting them both and enveloping Bucky’s smaller frame into a tight hug. His heart was beating out of his chest as he slams his eyes shut at the overwhelming feeling of Bucky’s almost frantic hold on him. Bucky seemed scared of letting go, sobbing against his chest and Steve just tries to focus on giving Bucky reassurance.

He rubs his hand over the young man’s back, from the back of his neck to his lower back, comforting and grounding him to the touch. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, as he whispers reassurances on Bucky’s hair, his chest bursting with feeling.

He doesn’t know how long they stood there, holding each other, until Bucky’s cries let up and turns into wet sniffs against his chest. Eventually, Bucky pulls away slightly, raising his head to look at Steve. He looked horrible, his nose red and his eyes puffy.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” He croaks out. “You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I forced you—“

“You didn’t force me, Bucky.” He interjects.

Bucky shakes his head. “No, I did. You agreed right away because I didn’t tell you what a big deal it was. And I know you. You’d never go back on your word. I manipulated you into agreeing and now you can’t take back what you said. I should have just told you! I didn’t know what I was thinking. And then I had to tell Pepper you might need a suit, and I should’ve known she’d go out on her way like that and try to help. And now, I missed my chance to tell you. And you got mad. And then you wouldn’t look at me anymore…and I _hate_ it, Steve…” Bucky buries his face on his chest again, clutching at him again as another wave of sobs wracks his shoulders.

He gets it. The thought of Bucky walking away from his life is unbearable.

He squeezes the younger man tighter, his chest tightening unpleasantly at the thought. Bucky gasps but he also squeezes back, knowing what Steve feels better than anyone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Steve whispers, understanding where all of this is coming from. “I’ll go to the party with you, of course I will. I was just surprised, that’s all. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Bucky shakes his head, his cries dying out but still shaking slightly. “No, it’s okay. I swear, its fine. I just wasn’t sure how to tell you about me. You’ve introduced me to your friends, I think it’s time you meet mine.” He says, his voice hoarse but determined.

Steve hesitates, not sure if it’s a good idea to do that. He thinks fast.

“Umm, it doesn’t have to be now. We can take it slow. I don’t want you to force yourself to do something you don’t want to do. I can be patient, you know.” He bargains. It really doesn't matter at this point. He just wants the poor kid to stop sounding so sad.

Bucky pulls away slightly to look at him. “I do want to tell you, Steve. You’re not forcing me. You never ask me about my life because I know you don’t want me to be uncomfortable but I want you to know.”

Steve knows this is a big deal for Bucky. He can see that the younger man seems stressed about it, all worked up in tension for whatever it was he was revealing.

“Alright. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, okay? And we can stop anytime you want. I guess I was upset earlier because to discover that I know so little was just, I don't know, _frustrating_ and I also want to get to know you better.” Steve explains, his hand pushing away Bucky’s hair from his eyes. He wipes the tear tracks on his cheeks with his thumbs gently and smiles down on the younger man.

Bucky sniffs before nodding. He smiles back albeit strained but he looks better and isn’t shaking anymore. Steve gently stirs them into the bedroom, Bucky still holding unto him but with less desperation than earlier and lays them down on the bed. He strokes the younger man’s hair until he falls asleep, Steve following him after a few minutes. They can talk later.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late upload! I got caught up with life, and I've been busy ever since school started. Also, this chapter took a lot to write. But here it is! Enjoy the feels.

Steve is a patient man. Some of his assignments back in the Special Forces consisted mostly of waiting around and he’s somewhat of an expert in that department. He and his team had come up with loads of ways to kill time, although he always sucked at poker because apparently, his inability to hide his expressions gives away everything.

He waits Bucky out, giving him plenty of time to process his thoughts and gather up the courage to say whatever he has to say. He was prepared to wait for however long it takes, but like his operations, it always comes as a surprise.

Three days after the thing with Bucky’s life and his family, Steve gets back from the store with the younger man sitting on the kitchen table with a serious look on his face.

“Bucky?” Steve frowns at him as he approaches the younger man, “what’s wrong?”

“I found out I was adopted when I was ten.” Bucky tells him without preamble and Steve freezes on his way to the table.

“What?” Steve says dumbly, staring at the blankness of Bucky’s expression, his stomach dropping with dread as he reads the situation. “Buck, what are you—” He starts but the look he receives makes him snap his mouth close. The determination on his eyes was evident despite the disinterested look he was giving Steve. Slowly, Steve composes himself and silently sits on the chair across the table, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a sincere look and willed the younger man to continue despite the tightness in his chest.

“My brother, Tony and I were hiding from Jarvis, the head butler of the household at that time to skip French lessons because we hated the subject.” Bucky continues, the rigidness around him slightly smoothing as Steve listens to him. “The mansion I used to live in was huge, really huge but Jarvis was really good at finding our hiding spots. I never knew how he does it, he always finds us wherever we tried to hide. So, we decided to pick the lock on Dad’s—Howard’s office because Jarvis wouldn’t check on that side of the house.”

Steve doesn’t understand what he’s talking about but he somehow gets the picture, along with a few painful discoveries. He’d spent some time imagining scenarios about Bucky’s life—all the clichéd situations he could think off, although he never expected to be on point with his prediction.

As he listens to the younger man, it comes with a horrifying realization that Bucky’s life could possibly fall into one of the categories. He lists it on his head with exasperation; Bucky was adopted, and from the sounds of it, he was adopted into a family of great wealth. A _mansion_? In this time period? He could only guess they’re extremely rich. And a _brother_?

Bucky looked strained as talked but Steve keeps his mouth shut and listens even though all he wants to do at the moment is wrap the younger man on a warm blanket. 

“It wasn’t the first time we’ve been to that room. Tony and I were really close when we were kids, my interest in machines are mostly because of him. We argued a lot, sometimes with fist fights, but we were thick as thieves. Tony was the troublemaker, we’d have prank wars with the staff at the mansion sometimes and it would drive Howard mad. Mom was the lenient one, always so indulgent with whatever we did.”

“We were spoiled rotten, getting into trouble at home or at school. Anyway, it wasn’t really a big deal when we broke into the office since we’ve done it loads of times. But there was this parcel on the desk and Tony always had an impulsive nature, it was no surprise he’d open it. We saw the adoption papers inside.” Bucky says all this in a flat tone, his voice low and raspy. Steve curls his hands on his lap to stop himself from reaching out. He can hear the pain in the younger man’s voice and he regrets everything.

He regrets his selfish desire to know Bucky’s life. Because that’s what he is. He’s selfish and cruel to put Bucky in this situation. The worst thing is that, he can’t bring himself to walk away, to prevent Bucky from telling him, because he _wants to listen_.

“Is that why you’re not with them now? Did you run?”

_Oh my god! Why the hell did you ask him that, you stupid muscle-head!_

Steve wants to punch himself repeatedly on the face.

Bucky looks at his horrified expression for a second and turns away.

Now you’ve done it, you heartless monster.

“No. That’s not why.” The younger man says, before looking back at him.

Bucky forces a smile, looking fragile as he holds himself together and Steve just wants to hold him on his chest.

“I did run away. But not because of that. I always suspected it ever since I was able to read. My name really isn’t Barnes. It’s my real father’s name.” He says, a small smile flitting on his lips and Steve feels his heart break into pieces.

Still, he was hooked. He’s addicted to the feeling of Bucky’s trust and he can’t bring himself to turn away.

“Anyway, Tony looked so shocked; I can’t remember ever seeing him with that expression on his face. I was pretty shocked myself because I didn’t expect to know it like that. I wasn’t stupid, despite the decisions I made, I listened to people around us. Howard and Maria tried keeping the truth from me by not exposing us kids to the public to much. But here and there, I would hear people refer to me as ‘Mr. Barnes’ son’. And Tony and I were born at the same year, which was weird because it wasn’t possible seeing as the months weren’t too far apart.”

“We didn’t really know what to do after that. Both of us were in shock, Tony especially. I convinced him somehow not to say anything about it, try to keep it a secret that we knew from our parents. I could tell that he was pretty upset about it. I don’t blame him; we were kids, we didn’t really know what to do about it at that time. I was fine, really. It didn’t matter that I was adopted, I still love my family. It was okay for a couple of weeks.”

“Then eventually I notice Tony looking at me with a guilty look on his face. Almost like he feels guilty that he’s the real son.” Bucky’s voice cracks, his whole demeanor crumbling and tears spill on his cheeks.

Steve doesn’t stop himself this time. The chair scrapes on the floor as he stands, toppling over with a loud thud, he pulls the younger man into a tight embrace, his eyes burning with wetness. Bucky doesn’t make a sound and Steve squeezes him tighter, almost crushing him on his chest. His chest hurts for him, unable to imagine what he went through.

“H-He looked so guilty, Steve.” Bucky wheezes out, his hands clutching the back of Steve’s shirt tightly. “He tried to distance himself from me. He was always so affectionate with our parents, calling them every night when they were overseas for business, a-always wanted their attention. But he must have felt so bad; he tried to shift their attention towards me.” Bucky continues, his voice slightly shaky with sadness, clinging to Steve with everything he has. 

“I n-never meant for him to feel that way. It was painful watching him try to be considerate. I knew he meant well, but I couldn’t stand it. He was trying so hard and it was hurting him so much, I could tell with one look. That’s why I ran away. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Steve tightens his embrace, the thought of a younger Bucky running away a physical pain on his chest. “You were ten, Buck. I wouldn’t know what to do in that situation.”

“I know, I know. But it was still stupid.” He says with trepidation, regret in his tone. “They found me wandering the streets of the city after three days. I didn’t know where to go. I just thought maybe if I disappeared, then everything would be okay again. It was a mistake. Everybody was upset with me.”

“It was Tony, though; he looked horrified. He thought it was his fault. It was just three days but he looked so gaunt, almost like he didn’t get enough sleep. I told him it wasn’t his fault, that everything was my mistake.”

Bucky sobs on his chest, sounding in pain and Steve continues rubbing his back. “It wasn’t the same after that. I tore the family apart by convincing our parents to send me to boarding school. I lived on dorms for the rest of my schooling and moved to an apartment in the city when I went to college. H-Howard supported me at first but I have this stupid need to make a name for myself. I had to earn it, you see. Being a Stark was something I had to earn.”

Suddenly, it clicks into place. All the names, it was making sense. Why Bucky was invited to the Gala, why he was living the way he did, why he never mentions anything about his family and why he doesn’t introduce any of his friends to Steve. He was a _Stark_. A name that anybody would recognize even in their sleep.

Steve contains his shock, saves the information for later, as Bucky shuffles against him. Steve’s chest swells with admiration, respect and affection for him. The younger man never fails to surprise Steve in ways he never imagined. To think that he’s chosen Steve to give this information was overwhelming and shaking Steve to the core.

“I applied for scholarships under my real parents’ name and I had a lot of offers. But my mom was upset about my rebellion so I accepted the Foundation to fund me. I guess it was because I wanted to have some connection with them in some form. Tony tells me constantly that I’m being stupid, that I should just go back to the mansion but I know he needed the space as much as I did. At least he doesn’t have to feel so guilty with me there. I worked multiple jobs, nothing illegal because my parents would kill me if they found out. I tried living with the money I worked hard to earn. It wasn’t easy. Tony had to force an intervention every now and then to help me get by. He doesn’t know I know his tricks. I know they care for me, Tony especially. But I just had to be myself for some time.” He explains weakly, his voice sounding hoarse from talking too much.

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not wrong for wanting that for yourself. You’re keeping contact, right?” Bucky nods. “Then they know you still care for them. You’re still a family, no matter what. You love them very much, don’t you?”

Bucky whimpers softly as he curls into Steve’s chest, nodding vigorously. “I d-do. They’re still my parents and Tony will always be my brother. I miss them and sometimes I wish everything happened differently but I don’t regret my decision. Maybe running away the first time was. But I like it this way. Tony might not agree with me but I’d like to be acknowledged with my own strengths.”

The whole thing was surreal. Steve can’t even begin to imagine what Bucky had to go through. He doesn’t think the younger man talked about his secret identity to many people. His heart feels so full of admiration for Bucky, he feels like bursting. He squeezes him on his chest tightly instead.

“Tony is the boy with you and Pepper at school?” Steve asks, suddenly remembering their odd mix, the wide-berth everybody was giving them.

Bucky nods, wiping his nose with his sleeves. It would’ve been disgusting if it were anybody else, but Steve is frankly too head-over-heels for him to care.

“Yes. He was at MIT for his Masters last year but he transferred. He’s dating Pepper, our childhood friend.”

Steve chuckles. “You and your brother are something else.”

Bucky was silent, his breaths calming down to sniffs and he pulls back slightly to look at Steve. “Do you think I’m being stupid?” He asks, uncharacteristically childish, so different from the usual Bucky who acts so mature for his age.

Steve smiles softly at him. “You really want to know what I think?”

Bucky tenses, as if bracing himself to hear something awful. “Yeah.” He still says, making Steve grin with fondness.

“I think you’re brave.” He says with all the sincerity he could muster. “I think you’re amazing. The most amazing person I’ve ever met. I understand why you want to prove yourself. I know the feeling. You’ve been so brave, Bucky. For fighting for yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky…melts. His whole demeanor cracking, his eyes brimming with tears as he looks at Steve, listens to the sincerity in his voice. With a wail, he presses himself to Steve, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and burying his face on his neck. Steve hunches a little to let him, the difference in their heights making it a bit awkward, but he doesn’t really care.

Christ, he was proud beyond words. His heart couldn’t get any fuller, his affection and admiration for the young man in his arms. He gently rubs his hand over Bucky’s back, the other on the back of neck, soothing the tremble of the body against him.

He doesn’t think anybody has said those words to Bucky in a long time. Even though he knows his words don’t bear the weight of effect as a family member, Bucky must have been so lonely all these years that Steve’s kindness affects him greatly. Yearning for approval from everybody by working hard all by himself, hiding behind a stoic mask to make him look strong, holding back from crying, Bucky must have felt so alone. It’s not even about his family, although they will always be there. It’s about proving to himself that he’s worth it. That he’s worth the name and the love of the family that took him in.

Steve feels the tears roll on his cheeks. If Bucky will let him, he would promise to always be there for him. To always look out for him, to say the words he wants to hear. _By God_ , he wants to be that person.

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not alone. You don’t have to work so hard anymore. I’m already proud of you. I think, if you ask your parents and Tony about what they think, they would say the same exact thing. We’re so proud of you, Bucky.” Steve murmurs, squeezing the young man tighter into him.

Not letting go of Steve, Bucky presses his nose on his neck and sniffs. “You…you really think so?”

Steve grins, the unusually childish question amusing him despite the situation. “Yes, I do.”

“You…you won’t leave me? Even if I’m really lazy?”

A laugh startles out of Steve in surprise. “ _You’re_ lazy?”

Bucky nods against his neck. “Yeah. I hate doing the laundry. And I don’t like washing dishes.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, I noticed. You’re practically living here, you know. It’s hard to miss.”

“But you won’t kick me out? Right?” Bucky outright inquires, tightening his hold on his shoulders.

The level of amusement at Bucky’s childish behavior makes Steve shake with laughter. “Geez, Buck. Where is this coming from? I won’t kick you out and I won’t leave, I promise.”

He feels the younger man’s smile press on his skin. “You said it. You said promise. Okay, I believe you.”

Honestly, Steve doesn’t think he could fall any harder. He feels like he’s soaring in the air, his whole system satisfied and light as a feather.

He doesn’t think he can ease Bucky’s uncertainty that easily. To be honest, he doesn’t care. If Bucky lets him stay, he’s got a lifetime to prove it to him. If Bucky thinks he's got something to prove, then so does Steve.

His heart beats with determination. He's never felt this way in a million years. The first one was when he was five, the second, when he was in 7th grade. This was it. This was what he was looking for. 

A purpose.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Tony meets Steve. Drama ensues.

The apartment building Bucky lives in is not what Steve expected. Actually, he doesn’t know what exactly he expected to see but it certainly wasn’t this.

It was incredibly _fancy_. There was a _doorman_. And one of those places with a reception hall. 

But oddly enough, the place wasn’t as intimidating as he thought it would be. The girl in the reception looks incredibly young and smiles pleasantly at him when he gets in. He rides the elevator with two boys in a hot debate about the current politics and a sopping wet lab bolts inside the doors when it opens on Bucky’s floor.

“Oh god, I am so sorry!” A young lady exclaims, following inside the lift and holding a leash on her soapy hand. She looked frazzled and out of breath, probably chasing down the creature into the elevators.

Steve holds the excitable animal between his hands as it tries to give him sloppy kisses. He laughs as it shakes the wetness out of its fur, the spray of water hitting him everywhere.

“ _Oh my god_! Percy, bad dog!” The young lady squeaks, horrified. She looks at Steve helplessly as she clips the leash on the furry animal. “I am extremely sorry! Your suit is ruined, oh dear.”

The animal barks loudly at him as he straightens out, looking happy and unrepentant with its behavior. Steve grins at her and at the carefree pet at her side. “Nah, it’s fine. I have another one.” He says easily, although a part of him cringes when he remembers where he got them from.

The owner still looked guilty when he excuses himself but he doesn’t take the time to reassure her. He has a schedule. 

Bucky’s door is on the end of the hallway and he knocks on it, his posture relaxing as he waits. All the nerves he felt when he came up the building dissipated with his encounter with the lady and her pet, despite the circumstances, and he smiles when Bucky opens the door.

The smile slowly drops off when he lays his eyes on the young man, replaced by a look of awe.

Steve has always thought Bucky was beautiful. Even when he’s running on caffeine, looking dead on his feet, Bucky was always ridiculously attractive. But he’d never purposely dressed up around Steve. He always wears his hoodies and faded jeans, looking like a typical college student.

Now, though. Steve isn’t prepared with how _stunning_ Bucky looked. He’s aware that he’s gaping at the young man. He can’t help it. The suit he’s wearing fits him perfectly. It hugged his shoulders, his waist and thighs, looking fit and extremely gorgeous. His hair was up in an artfully messy way, tied back in a ponytail. The dark suit brings out his blue-gray eyes, making them stand out brightly against the low light. Bucky was breathtakingly handsome.

Steve feels his face flush, knowing he looked like a disaster after the incident at the elevator.

“Hey.” Bucky smiles, looking unaware of the effect he’s having on Steve. “Come on in.”

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve smiles back, an automatic response. He steps inside the apartment and looks around.

It looked simple, almost ordinary despite the outline of the interior. There were bookshelves stacked on every wall. The surfaces of the tables were laid with wires and machinery of some sort. It smelled of motor oil, grease and the sharp, metallic smell of rust. It didn’t seem like an apartment. More like a repairman’s garage. Which makes sense, being an engineering student and all, but it seems extensive.

“Nice place you got here.” Steve comments, looking at a pile of pliers and wires on a corner.

Bucky chuckles, amused. “I know how it looks, Stevie. No need to be polite.”

“It’s true. It’s like an electronics repair shop.” He says, picking up a screwdriver and twirling it between his fingers.

“And that’s a good thing?” Bucky raises an eyebrow from where he picks up a pair of shoes.

Steve grins, fascinated with the whole place. “Yeah. Shows how much you like what you’re doing.”

Bucky’s smile softens and he crosses the room to drop on a small chair near where Steve is standing. The older man steps close and take the shoes from Bucky’s hands before slowly dropping to one knee in front of him. Bucky’s eyes widen briefly but he doesn’t stop Steve from gently slipping the shoes on his feet one at a time.

Steve helps him up on his feet, ignoring the part of his brain saying he’s being unnecessarily attentive and reaches to straighten the tie on Bucky’s neck. He’s being ridiculous, he’s aware of it. But he can’t help it. He’s Bucky’s date, after all. Judging from the soft smile of the young man’s face, he doesn’t seem to mind it either.

“So, I met your neighbor on the way up.” He says, remembering the encounter earlier and what he still needs to do. “Her dog escaped in the middle of his bath and kinda sprayed soapy water all over me. Can I use your bathroom?”

Bucky looks at him with renewed eyes and frowns, probably only noticing what he looks like. Steve watches as the young man blatantly checks him out, puffing his chest out rather deliberately. Bucky’s lips part with a soft “Oh” and he flushes pink.

“Uhh, its over there.” He says, pointing at a direction and Steve grins at him before going.

He doesn’t remember what he ate earlier but whatever it was, he feels elated. It’s probably less about what he consumed for breakfast, more on the way Bucky is opening up with him. He still feels high, high on Bucky’s trust and he doesn’t think anything can bring him down.

He fixes himself as best as he can, thankful that he doesn’t smell like a wet dog despite almost getting up and personal with one. He steps out of the bathroom, spots Bucky talking to someone on the phone.

“Tony and Pepper are coming to drive us to the venue. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” Bucky tells him after he hangs up.

***

Meeting Tony is an experience he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget in all his life.

He is incredibly _obnoxious_.

“So,” Tony drawls as soon as they face each other on the building’s parking lot. “This is the Hero.”

Steve bristles at his tone, but doesn’t quip back. He can’t see a lick of resemblance with him and Bucky, except maybe for the way his eyes narrow defiantly. Bucky was like that when they first met.

“The way baby brother kept going on about you, I thought you’d look bigger.”

Bucky gawks at his side. “Tony!”

“You can’t be serious, Bucky.” Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Is he really that good?”

The slap rings across the space of the thankfully empty parking area. It happens so fast, both Steve and Bucky flinch in surprise at the sudden action.

“Ow.” Tony says, his head tilted on the side.

Steve looks at Pepper in utter shock. She looked murderous. She had been silently standing beside them whole time that he doesn’t notice her until she moved.

“That was inappropriate, Tony.” She says, her tone hard.

Tony grins at her, unrepentant in the face of danger. “And this is appropriate?”

She purses her lips, glossy with make-up, not a hair out of place. “Apologize. Now.” 

She was _terrifying_.

Steve looks at Bucky for an explanation but he wasn’t meeting Steve’s eyes, looking sideways. The tips of his ears were red and Steve doesn’t know how to take that.

Oh dear. What did he get himself into?

“Fine.”Tony was saying. “Sorry.”

It was the most unapologetic apology in the whole universe.

“It’s fine.” Steve just says, not knowing what to respond to that. He doesn’t really get what just happened but he does know one thing: Bucky’s family was _dramatic_.

The drive to the venue was awkward at best. Bucky keeps silent, looking through the window but his hand fits itself on Steve’s. Tony looks at their hands from the rearview mirror with tremendous disdain, scoffing every now and then. He obviously hates Steve, not bothering to hide it from the man himself. In a way, Steve admires him for that. He’d sat through briefings with distasteful people, pretending to respect their positions in the hierarchy. This blatant hate from Tony was something he actually respects. Even if he also can’t stand the guy.

“I’m so sorry, Captain. I suspect that Tony was dropped on his head as a baby with the way he acts sometimes.” Pepper says, sitting across them in the back seat.

Steve smiles politely. “No, its okay, Miss Potts.”

Pepper reflects the gesture. “I’m glad the suit fits perfectly. You and James look very handsome.”

“Thank you.” Steve says sincerely, glancing at the young man beside him. Tony scoffs on the front seat but Steve ignores it in favor of squeezing Bucky’s hand.

The younger man turns to him finally, looking a little sheepish, guilty about ignoring him. “I’m really glad you could come, Steve.” He says, his tone soft.

“Me too.” Steve grins, giddy with Bucky’s attention.

Pepper smiles at them, hitting Tony on the shoulder when he scoffs again.

*** 

The party is great, even though Steve knows next to no one at the event. He sits on the sidelines, sipping fancy drinks and generally happy with being ignored by the high-class looking people.

Tony had dragged Bucky into his circle as soon as they arrived. Bucky had looked apologetic but Steve waves him off to do the thing he’s supposed to do at these sorts of events. The younger man might have left home, but he was still a Stark. Being one means a lot of responsibilities. Despite what Bucky thinks, he didn’t need to prove himself to people. It wasn’t something he had to prove, being the way he is. Tony clearly adores him, not leaving him alone all these years. Other people can just suck it.

He suspects someone gave him shit about being adopted a long time ago which made him think he didn’t deserve the name. Whoever it was, Steve would like a word with them, tell them to shove it and leave the younger man alone. Still, this was Bucky’s choice. Living away from his family to prove that he can stand on his own, even though he obviously misses them.

He’s actually grateful to Tony for sticking close to the younger man. Bucky certainly wouldn’t be the first one to reach out, by the looks of it. He thinks too little of himself sometimes. It’s a bit frustrating.

“So,” a familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts and he glances up to look at Tony.

“Did they replace ‘Hello’ with ‘so’ as a greeting or is it a new thing young people do now?” Steve drawls before he could help himself.

Tony raises an eyebrow at that, looking reluctantly amused. It surprises him that he can actually read the young man’s expressions easily. “You’re unexpectedly sassy, for an older guy.”

Steve laughs, the surprise in Tony’s face satisfying. “I’m not. Sassy, that is. But yeah, I’m definitely old.” He admits, smiling at the young man genuinely. It’s no use getting irritated with him. He’s Bucky’s brother.

Tony hums. “I know. Too old, in my opinion. But Bucky seems to like you just fine.”

The petulant tone in Tony’s voice makes Steve frown. He looks at the young man, noting the clench in his jaw and the jealousy in his eyes.

“Oh.” Steve breathes. “Are you in love with him?”

Tony sputters indignantly. “WHAT?!” He looks at Steve, a horrified expression on his face.

It actually makes sense when he thinks about it. Tony hates Steve because Bucky keeps on talking about him. The crass comment earlier could also be taken as a jealous streak, his irritation on the car too. But didn’t Bucky say he has a girlfriend?

“—excuse me, are you listening to me?!” Tony was fuming, trying to catch his attention. “Where the hell did you get that idea?! I am not in love with him, alright?!”

Steve looks at him, notes the way he looks genuinely horrified.

“Okay, I do love Bucky but I love him _as a brother_ , okay?! I love him but not in a sexual kind of way! I mean, he’s great! But he’s not my type! I’d much rather sleep with _you_!”

And that was it.

Steve laughs, the kind that makes him double over, his stomach hurting with how hard he laughs. Tony looks at him, his face red with humiliation and he laughs some more.

“Oh my god, you are an _asshole_.” Tony says, the voice sounding surprised with the realization, but he doesn’t sound upset about it. He sounds delighted, even.

“Am I?” Steve chuckles, leaning on his chair in a blatantly obnoxious manner.

Tony narrows his eyes at him but a corner of his mouth twitches slightly. “You’re letting everyone think you’re such a gentleman with that ‘Aww, shucks’ routine but the truth is, you’re a little shit.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says, smirking at Tony.

A slight movement behind the young man’s shoulder catches his eye. Bucky was walking towards them, an unreadable look on his face.

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve smiles, standing from his sprawl, which was frankly hurting his lower back. Appearances aside, he doesn’t like alpha-male posturing but he does do it sometimes. It takes a lot of work.

Tony turns, looking at his brother with a grin. “Bucky, hey, can you believe this guy? He’s—”

“Whoa, what’s wrong?”

The younger man presses close into Steve’s space, wrapping his arms around his waist and his nose on his neck. Steve hugs him back automatically.

Tony clicks his tongue. “He’s drunk, isn’t he?”

Bucky doesn’t smell strongly of alcohol but he does look a little out of it. Tony rolls his eyes, pulling his phone out.

“He’s got no tolerance for alcoholic drinks. Two cans of beer is enough to make him drunk.” Tony mutters, typing on the device rapidly.

Steve feels Bucky sag against him and he carefully supports his weight with his arms. Tony looks worried as he glances at them standing there.

“Jarvis will be here on ten. Why don’t you sit down for a bit, I’ll sort this out.” Tony says and walks to the circle of people who seems oblivious to their little scene.

He pulls the chair and carefully maneuvers Bucky to sit on his lap, supporting his head on his shoulder. The people around them start to notice and coo at the display of the tall, blond man and the younger Stark in his arms. It makes him flush, the urge to hide Bucky away from prying eyes sets his teeth on edge.

Bucky seems to have fallen asleep, his nose scrunching adorably every now and then. He’s surprised he can actually fall asleep in such a place, with a lot of people staring but he supposes it’s the benefits of being drunk.

“Oh dear. Is he asleep?” A woman approaches them with a fond smile on her face.

Steve nods. “Apparently, he has no tolerance for alcohol.”

The woman laughs, an elegant sound. “He sure doesn’t.” She reaches out and brushes her hand on Bucky’s forehead to push his hair out of his face. “I’m afraid there’s no helping him this way. Could I ask you to take him home for me?”

Before Steve can express his bewilderment, Tony steps in and presses a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, Mom.”

Steve closes his mouth. Right. That answers it.

“This is Captain Rogers, Bucky’s friend. Captain, our lovely mother, Maria Stark.” Tony introduces. “You’ll have to stay at the mansion for tonight. I already texted Jarvis. Is Dad here already?”

“Yes, dear. He’s with Alex.” Maria says.”Would that be okay with you, Captain?”

“Oh. Yes, sure.” He says. He’s being swept into the family affairs again, he doesn’t think he’s capable of refusing.

Maria goes to see them off when the driver arrives. Steve heaves Bucky into his arms and carries him to the exit. Tony is nowhere to be found and so was Pepper.

“Jarvis will see to your needs, Captain. Thank you for taking care of my son.” Maria smiles at him and he nods reluctantly, unsure of the weight she carried on her tone.

He doesn’t ask her to clarify. Instead, he carries Bucky into the car and gently deposits him on the backseat. He sits with Bucky’s head on his lap, trusting the household butler of the Starks to lead them home.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely sorry for the late update! I just went through a slump and currently working out some school stuff. Forgive me?

“Um.”

Jarvis’s face was completely blank when Steve throws a helpless look in his direction, looking the epitome of calmness in the face of Steve’s panic.

“Stevie…” Bucky breathes against the skin of his neck, wrapping his arms around shoulders and plastering himself impossibly close to Steve’s body. He stiffens minutely, his palms placing themselves on the younger man’s waist to stop his wiggling on Steve’s lap.

“Hey, Buck? Um, you need to change for bed now. Could you…could you let go for a second?” It’s only a small gratitude that his voice doesn’t shake, his throat feeling dry with the way Bucky mouths on the collar of his suit.

Jarvis just stands patiently on the foot of the bed, cradling the clothes Bucky is supposed to change into if he just stops squirming on Steve’s lap. Steve feels incredibly awkward, holding off the young man’s waist carefully so he can’t press himself on his crotch while the butler looks on, face completely blank of emotion.

Bucky doesn’t give an answer, nuzzling upward and tugging on Steve’s earlobe with his teeth, causing him to jolt and shiver bodily. Bucky laughs, delighted with the reaction and smiles dopily at him before repeating the action.

“Oh geez, Bucky.” Steve grits on desperately; tilting his head away from the young man’s attacking mouth. “Umm, Jarvis?” He turns to the man frantically, his voice a pitch higher than normal.

“Yes, Captain?” The butler answers, still watching Steve suffer silently.

Steve quickly puts a hand over Bucky’s mouth when he sways forward; successfully stopping him inches away from Steve’s lips. 

“You have a room for me, yeah?” He asks, voice strangled as he looks at the young man’s eyes, watching him over the hand on his face.

“Of course, Captain. Right across this one.” Jarvis says, a small hint of mirth in his tone. Damn him.

“Alright. I’ll go over once Bucky’s settled. You can leave his clothes here. I’ll take care of it.” Steve says, feeling his face flush with embarrassment but refusing to take his eyes of Bucky’s as he swallows desperately. The butler agrees readily and leaves the room once he puts the clothes of the side of the bed where Steve was supposed to put Bucky into.

The young man’s eyes were glazed over, intoxicated with alcohol but the obvious want in his eyes makes Steve’s insides burn. Bucky was extremely drunk; he wonders how many glasses he went through to be this out of it. Back at Darcy’s party, he was the youngest looking person in the room and nobody was stupid enough to give him alcoholic drinks. He shudders to think what would have happened if Bucky got drunk at that time.

He dutifully ignores how his body is responding to the warm body against him, opting to breathe slowly through his nose as he gathers his mind out of the gutter and shifts his hold on the young man’s waist.

Gently, Steve removes the hand on his mouth to brush the hair from the young man’s forehead. Bucky closes his eyes at the contact and tilts his head to nuzzle on Steve’s palm. He was practically purring, and Steve couldn’t help the soft smile as he watches the young man.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” He says, stroking his fingers on Bucky’s scalp gently. Bucky sighs, dropping his head on Steve’s shoulder, making him chuckle. He carefully removes the hair tie from the young man’s hair and combs them into place with his fingers.

The hand on tangled on Bucky’s hair cradles the back of his head while he scoops his arm around his waist as he stands and lowers the pliant body to the mattress. Bucky makes a noise of complaint with the movement but curls on his side at the softness of the pillow on his head.

“Steve…” he calls sweetly, rubbing his face on the pillows.

As gently as possible, Steve divests him of his suit, careful not to jostle him too much and puts the pajamas on him. Bucky sleepily hums in approval while he brushes the hair out of the young man’s face, his fingers lingering on the curve of his cheekbone.

It makes his heart swell, looking at the peaceful look on Bucky’s face, his eyelashes fanning the pale skin of his cheeks and his mouth soft and inviting. 

For one stupid moment, Steve’s iron hold grip on his deepest desire loosens.

_Please. Just this once._

He leans in, pressing his lips gently on Bucky’s mouth, reveling on the soft give of the plush lips beneath his. It lasts for all five seconds before he makes himself pull away. His eyes drink in the young man’s face, the rise and fall of each breath he takes and he feels his chest constrict as he painfully rips his gaze away from the only thing he ever wants to look at. 

His heart is beating wildly as he shuts the door when he leaves the room, locking the memory deep in his heart where no one can see it. He doubts he’ll get another chance.

*** 

Jarvis must have entered the room while he was sleeping because a pile of fresh clothes is on the top of the bench across the bed when he wakes up in the morning. Not that he slept much over the evening, his mind racing with the thoughts of reality crashing down on him. He briefly chides himself for not waking up with the intrusion but then he remembers he doesn’t do that anymore either. It could be a good thing.

He changes quickly; locating the phone he discarded with his jacket on a chair beside the window and made his way downstairs. Luckily for him, the butler was on his way upstairs when he rounded the hallway.

“Captain Rogers,” Jarvis greets in his crisp British accent, sounding professional as always, “Good morning. I was just about to wake you just now. Sir Anthony and Sir James are waiting for you in the dining room.”

“Bucky’s up? How is he?” Steve asks casually, ignoring the fancy name titles and matching the butler’s strides as they walk to the kitchen.

“He’s rather…cranky, Sir. He has a hangover.”

“Right.” He nods, expecting as much. “Tony’s with him right now?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Stark also appears to have a headache at the moment.” Jarvis says, sounding a little cheerful for the first time. Steve decides not to comment on it.

“ Jarvis?”

“Yes sir?”

“We’re at the Stark Compound right? If I wanted to catch a cab, where would I go?”

“I’m afraid there are no service cars allowed inside the property, sir. I would recommend you let our chauffer drive you where you wish to go.” Jarvis says, stopping by an open doorway. “Would you like me to fetch the car for you?”

Steve hesitates, glancing inside to see the two brunets on the table. Asking for a ride seems like a huge imposition but he doesn’t see another option to go with anyway. He nods.

“Very good, sir.”

The sound of a voice rising takes their attention back to the table.

Tony and Bucky appeared to be arguing over judging from the stubborn looks on both of their faces. Steve looks sideways to Jarvis in question and was met with a carefully blank expression as an answer. The butler takes a curt bow and leaves him standing on the doorway, the traitor.

“Good morning…?” Steve frowns at the two, approaching the table a little cautiously.

Tony looks up sharply on his arrival and he levels Steve with a glare.

“I’m taking Bucky with me to California this weekend.” He states firmly, his eyes glinting with challenge. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

Bucky makes a sound of affront from across the table. “I said I’m not going! I have work and Steve’s busy anyway. We’re not going.”

Looking back and forth between the two angry-looking brunets, Steve feels lost.

Tony clicks his tongue. “Just skip it. It doesn’t pay much anyway. And I bet he’ll go anywhere with you if you ask him.” He says dismissively.

“ _No_ , Tony. And no, he won’t.” Bucky quickly glances at Steve, mouth twisting unhappily, before dropping his gaze on the plate in front of him.

“Hang on a second, what are you talking about?” Steve finally asks, fed up with being talked over without knowing what it’s about.

Tony stabs his bacon mulishly, his fork scrapping the plate loudly. “It’s a birthday present. It’s in Malibu so we need to go there to see it. _Obviously._ ”

“Birthday?” Steve frowns. “Whose?”

Bucky immediately flushes red and hunches his shoulders as if to hide himself. Tony raises an eyebrow at Steve, looking insulted.

“You’ve been dating for who knows how many months now and you don’t know his birthday?”

Feeling his eyes widen, Steve swivels his head on Bucky’s direction. “Yours?”

“We’re…not dating,” he mumbles weakly at the same time, looking anywhere but Steve, who’s mind is racing in different directions at the same time.

“It’s your birthday? When?” Steve feels panicked as he looks at the way Bucky shifts on his seat uncomfortably. He swallows. “Did I miss it?” The dread in his voice is evident as he stares at the young man helplessly.

Bucky hears the misery in his question and hastily shakes his head, finally looking at Steve with worry. “No, no. You didn’t miss it. It’s this Saturday.” He says reassuringly, giving Steve a small smile as a balm to soothe the panic in Steve’s voice.

His shoulders’ slump in relief. “Good. That’s good. Happy birthday.” He smiles at him, happy with the assurance.

A loud snort cuts through the moment and Steve glances at Tony whose eyes are glinting with mischief as he looks at both of them. Steve refuses to flush but he doesn’t think he’s all that successful.

“We’re going then.” Tony says decisively, smiling triumphantly at Bucky.

Bucky scoffs, recovering quicker than Steve. “Still a no, Tony. The last time you organized my birthday, you tried to book that rock band. I’m not doing that again.”

“They were the highest on the ratings at the time! Of course I had to book them.” Tony sniffs, chewing on his toast. “I’m not gonna make the same mistake twice, I’m not an idiot--”

“Could have fooled me.” Bucky mutters, sipping on his coffee while glaring at his brother.

“—I’m keeping it low-key this time. Just a few people we know. The cool ones.” Tony says easily, ignoring the comment and beaming at Steve this time. “You’re coming, right? Of course you are. Actually, give me your phone number so I can text you the details. Or not. Nevermind. We’ll discuss this later because I’m meeting with Pepper and Rhodey in twenty minutes. I gotta go.”

Tony leaves in a flurry of movement, gulping his coffee in haste and running upstairs shouting for Jarvis. Steve and Bucky watches him go before looking at each other in mutual despair for the disaster of a young man he is with bewildered looks.

Until Steve catches himself looking at Bucky’s mouth and he drops his gaze hastily.

Steve clears his throat, flicking his eyes on the young man then schools his face into a polite smile.

“How’s your head?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky says after a moment. “Um, I heard about what happened. Did I really pass out on you last night?” His cheeks are pink when he meets Steve’s eyes.

Steve nods, looking away. “You did, yeah. It was fine though. Jarvis was very helpful.” He says, a little sarcastic.

“Oh. I should thank him.” Bucky says, turning his fork over his hand absently, frowning slightly. “Umm, thanks for coming with me, by the way. I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant. Except for the fact that I fell asleep on you, right, it was definitely bad. Sorry.” He winced, eyeing Steve sheepishly.

Steve shakes his head. “No, it was fine. Really. I just did the grunt work. It was all Jarvis.” He smiles briefly before shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. He hopes he doesn’t look as guilty as he feels. Bucky doesn’t seem to remember his drunk state last night though. He suspects he’d be a lot embarrassed than he is right now.

“Why don’t you sit? You’ve been standing there this whole time. Have some breakfast.” Bucky gestures on the table with a small smile.

“Oh, it’s fine. I gotta go anyway. I have an appointment with the VA.” He says, shrugging.

Bucky’s smile falters. “Oh. Okay.” He says resigned. He looks at Steve for a moment before dropping his eyes on the plate in front of him. He looks disappointed and trying not to show it. Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

An awkward silence falls between them, the only sound in the room is the clink of Bucky’s fork against his plate. Neither of them were looking at each other; Steve, searching his mind to think of anything else to say and Bucky looking conflicted as he shifts on the table.

Finally, Steve clears his throat, pulling on a chair. He supposes it couldn’t hurt, he’s just sitting. “What was Tony talking about earlier? About going to California?”

Bucky relaxes, a small pleased smile tugging on his lips. “We have a villa there in Malibu. I haven’t been there since high school and apparently, there have been some renovations since then.” He nudges a plate on scones on Steve’s direction without looking at him. He thinks he’s subtle, and Steve thinks he’s too cute for his own good.

Sighing in defeat, he picks one up. Bucky smiles, not bothering to hide it this time. God, this kid is gonna be the death of him.

“You don’t want to go?” He asks instead, keeping some kind of resemblance of a conversation at least.

Bucky scrunches his nose. “Nah, I’m good.” He flicks his eyes at Steve. “You’re busy right?”

“I guess so.” Steve thinks of the files he has to organize and grimaces.

Bucky nods. “Then I’m not going.”

Steve blinks at him, finally noticing the pointed way he doesn’t look at Steve this time. Then slowly, _deliberately_ , Bucky meets his eyes.

“What if I’m not busy?” Steve blurts out, feeling helpless as he stares back, watching the young man swallow, throat suddenly dry.

“Would you come with me?” Bucky asks, his voice small, a little shy and it’s doing wicked things to Steve’s insides.

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes.”

The pure, unadulterated joy in Bucky face was almost too much. Steve feels his chest expand, his lungs filling and his shoulders suddenly bigger than they seem. He feels tall, and powerful. Almost overwhelmingly proud of himself. _Him_. He did that. Put that look on Bucky’s face by saying one word.

Jesus, Tony was right. He’d go anywhere if Bucky asks him.

Bucky opens his mouth to say something but another voice rings from the doorway.

“Captain Rogers, the car is ready for you, sir.”

Both of them jolt from their seats in surprise, the moment disturbed leaving them with matching flushed faces.

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Steve says, voice a little high. He stands from his seat, glancing at Bucky with a sheepish smile. “I gotta go, Bucky. Thanks for…well, thanks.”

Bucky nods a little hastily, his face still pink. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, Bucky.”

Jarvis throws these meaningful looks at Steve as he guides him through the door. Steve resolutely ignores him and tries to keep himself from smiling too much. He probably looks stupidly dopey.

He forgets who he is for the moment, forgets that he has about a thousand issues in his brain and lets himself feel good. Because Bucky makes him feel good. Being with Bucky is good. 

But of course, it was just for a moment. As soon as he arrives at the VA, reality crashes down on him. It’s a cold realization clawing at his chest, making his lungs hurt when he breathes and his heart in pieces in his chest. His mind is filled with the memories of war and death and overwhelming guilt.

Bucky might be good for him, but he isn’t good enough for Bucky.

He leaves an hour later, his heart beating in his chest, a decision made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when I can update again but I hope you'll stick with it. I promise a happy ending :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Thank you so much for all the positive feed-back! Honestly, I didn't expect this kind of reaction to this fic. I love you guys so much! Here's another chapter for you! Beware for DRAMA!

Looking over the endless ocean was exhilarating, the blazing sun and palm trees a welcome change from the busy streets back in Brooklyn and Steve marvels at how he could live to experience it all. The thought doesn’t erase all the guilt, the pain and years of trauma he carries but it was tolerable, something he would have to live with for the rest of his life. To be honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, man. You okay?”

He turns to see Sam leaning by the door with a small smile on his face, but his eyes are worried. Typical Sam behavior.

Steve smiles back. “Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I’m on a beach.” He gestures his head on the vast expanse of water in front of him with a grin.

“Well, technically, you’re on a balcony overlooking the beach so it doesn’t count.” Sam sasses back, moving to join him over the railing.

Steve elbows him playfully, Sam giving back as good as he gets. They stand side by side after a shared laugh and look over the view.

Sam whistles appreciatively. “This is way above my pay grade, man. Seriously. Didn’t expect your boy to be this loaded.” He says but not nastily. He looks amused and a little awed.

Steve flushes at the implication but takes it with grace. “Tony is…very generous. I think Bucky is still sulking somewhere in the house.” He winces at the thought of the younger man. “I might have conspired with his brother on planning his birthday.” He says, head bowed guiltily.

Tony had been adamant in making the event as surprising as possible; calling all of Steve’s friends who are also Bucky’s by now with all the time they spend around each other. He had been horrified at first with Tony’s plan on taking all of them to the West Coast and he’d offered to shoulder the bills for the trip but there was no stopping the eldest Stark.

Bucky was outright _pissed_. He had caught Steve on a conversation about flight plans on the phone the night before and it was the first time he’d yelled at Steve, looking outright hurt. It was a disaster.

He hasn’t spoken a word to him since then, pretending he doesn’t exist even during the plane ride with them sitting next to each other and Steve is just…beaten down to the ground. The fresh air and the view helps very little.

Sam looks over at him, smile softening. “He’ll come around. He’s a good kid. I’d be worried about Tony but I think his girlfriend has him under her thumb.” He chuckles.

It had been a rowdy trip, despite the first class seats they booked. Wanda and Pietro were pumped full of sugar, running around the aisles and Clint following them like the overprotective parent he is. Natasha was away on business but she’d promised to be there on the day. Darcy and Pepper got on like peanut butter and jelly, talking about politics and designer shoes. Rhodey and Sam were engaged in a serious conversation, listening attentively while the other talked on.

Steve had been worried it would be an awkward flight, with Tony’s friends and his meeting for the first time. He hadn’t expected them to blend so well with each other.

He sighed. “I hope. He might throw my birthday present to the ocean tomorrow for all I know.” The thought makes him nervous, gulping loudly.

Sam laughs at his face, such a friend he is. “Don’t worry, man. I guarantee you that wouldn’t happen.”

He eyes Sam suspiciously, actually even more nervous now. He just shrugs. He hopes to God it won’t.

*** 

“Unca Steve! Look!”

Wanda clamored into his lap, shoving a creased piece of paper right into his face excitedly. Steve laughs at her eagerness, easing down the paper to look at it properly.

“It’s a robot!” She informs him proudly, “Bucky has _millions_ of them in his room!” She exclaims, eyes comically wide.

“Wow!” Steve matches her look of amazement that makes her giggle. He gasps theatrically, the girl giggling even harder as she jumps up and down in excitement. “ _Millions_?”

The kid had learned the word only recently and is in the phase of using it every chance she gets. The same case when she heard the word ‘weird’. Suddenly, everything was ‘weird’; broccolis, the picture of a tropical bird, pineapple on pizza and Clint. She was mostly right about those things.

She nods furiously. “He can make them move like this,” she imitates robotic sounds as she moves her limbs in halting gestures. “It was so _weird_!”

Steve chuckles in amusement but before he could reply, Pietro was running through the door in a flurry of movements. He was laughing gleefully and a step behind him was Bucky, his face a picture of open merriment. Steve feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Steeeb! ‘Elb!” Pietro shrieks, running over to him on the couch, his nose dripping with snot.

Bucky slows down in the middle of the room, the smile on his face faltering as he sees him. Pietro doesn’t seem to notice him stopping, climbing into Steve’s lap with his sister.

“Hey, buddy.” He says, adjusting his grip on Wanda to shift his brother on one arm. “Oh geez, your nose.” He grimaces, looking at the kid’s face.

The box of tissue paper on the table is handed to him, a surprised look on his face as he raises his head to see Bucky. He doesn’t look at Steve as he shakes the box, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

Steve gives him a grateful smile. “Thank you.” He pulls on a few tissues, wiping on the snot on Pietro’s face and encouraging him to blow.

“Eww!” Wanda cries in disgust, tilting bodily away from his brother. The boy glares at her, blowing even harder.

“Hey, no.” He says, pulling the napkin from the boy’s face. “Don’t blow too hard, your ears will hurt.”

Clint comes through the doorway suddenly, his hair sticking in all directions and his phone pressed on one ear.

“Hey guys! It’s Mommy!” He announces cheerfully, looking like an excited kid himself as he gesture to the phone.

“Mommy!” Both kids scream, making Steve’s ears ring and hurries down to their dad, almost tripping over each other. They reach over Clint excitedly, pulling him down to get to the phone in his hand.

Steve laughs at their attempts to climb their father, amused at the scene. He looks over at Bucky, watching the small smile on his face. He looks gorgeous, as always, in his plain black shirt and sweatpants. A look over his feet and he gulps as he sees them bare. They look so vulnerable and pale against the tiled floor.

“You’re good with kids.”

He raises his head at the comment, the young man looking awkward as he stands there.

Steve smiles, seeing an olive branch as it is. “Not really. I don’t know any children besides Wanda and Pietro anyway.”

“Do you want one?” Bucky asks suddenly, glancing at him for a moment before looking away again.

The question surprises him, blinking over at the young man. There had been a time when he thought about it, with Peggy. He hadn’t thought about it over the years.

“Um, I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t think I’m stable enough to handle one right now. Natasha’s kids are behaved and I’ve known them since they were babies so…but yeah, I’m not sure.” He says, frowning slightly.

Bucky nods thoughtfully, biting his lower lip. He looks worried.

Steve tries another strategy. “Wanna raid the kitchen? I’m kinda starved.”

Bucky looks at him for a moment, before nodding. The young man looks subdued as he follows him through the kitchen but at least he’s speaking to Steve now. He’ll take the victory, no matter how small.

*** 

“Are you mad because my friends know you’re a Stark now?”

Steve suspected as much. When Bucky told him about his family, he knows it was a big deal. Granted, his friends don’t know about his whole story, but Bucky has always guarded his privacy very carefully. Although it was technically Tony who spilled the beans, he could understand why Bucky would be mad at Steve as well, for not stopping him.

Bucky looks over at him from his seat on the lounger. They migrated on the pool side (one of those fancy pools overlooking the cliff that Steve thinks is a safety hazard) after their trip to the kitchen, a huge plate of sandwiches and fruits on the small table between them.

“No, that’s not it.” He scoffs. “I’m not mad.”

Steve gives him an exasperated look. “Yes, you are.”

The young man’s mouth tightens into a line. “No, I’m not.”

He fights an urge to roll his eyes, knowing it’ll cause more irritation. For a moment, none of them says anything, Steve getting anxious at every second. Finally, he sighs.

“Was it something I did?” He lowers his voice, speaking gently, eyes on the water in front of them. “Did I misunderstand something? Tell me and I’ll fix it right away.”

He doesn’t know what to do if Bucky says he doesn’t want Steve here, or if he says he doesn’t like his friends being here. He’s sure it’s not his friends though because he adores Darcy and Sam, not to mention the kids. It has to be something about his privacy, or Steve himself, unknowingly doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.

Bucky doesn’t speak for a long moment. Then just when Steve is about to just drop the matter; he mumbles “I hate it.”

“Hate…what?” Steve gulps, his heart thudding in his chest. He said ‘it’, right? Not ‘you’?

“Tony.” Bucky says finally, sounding sad.

Steve frowns. “You hate…your brother?”

“No, not---I meant—” he cuts off with a frustrated groan, abruptly standing up. Steve startled at the outburst, blinking in surprise.

“Bucky…?”

The young man lets out another sound of frustration, his arms twitching with abortive movement on his side, looking agitated for an unknown reason. He looks at Steve, sitting there with his eyes wide with confusion and his eyes desperate.

“Bucky, what…”

He trails off when Bucky steps forward, both of his hands fisting themselves on Steve’s shirt. The aggression coming off the young man’s body language makes him stiffen in response, thinking he’s about to get punched. He looks up, the question dying in his throat when he sees Bucky’s eyes, the fear, the determination on them.

It happens so quickly; Bucky’s mouth slams down on his, his lips pursued as if he doesn’t know how to kiss, and Steve’s brain shorts out.

It was awkward. Steve’s eyes are open wide in shock and Bucky’s screwed shut. Steve’s spine is bent back, his neck straining with the angle but the hands on his shirt prevent him from moving. They must look comical, Steve’s hands hovering in the air and Bucky standing between his legs.

It doesn’t last long. Just as abruptly, Bucky lets go of him, backing away but not letting go just yet. Steve can see the pulse rabbit-fast on the side of his neck, his chest heaving rapidly while he searches Steve’s eyes for something. Steve is shell-shocked, looking back with a question in his eyes.

Steve sees the exact moment Bucky’s eyes dim. His face twists as he lets go of Steve as if he was burned.

“No no no Buck. Wait—Bucky!”

He scrambles up, watching helplessly as Bucky turns and runs towards the house like a man possessed, not looking back once.

Steve takes two steps forward and crashes on the lounger he doesn’t notice was in front of him. It takes a lot longer than he would have wanted to stand up and follow Bucky’s path to the house, his knees throbbing where he bumped it.

He gets to the second floor, ready to bust the door of the young man’s room to get to him, only to stop at the sight of Tony on the hallway.

“What the hell, Rogers?!”

Tony advances on him, his face furious as he gets into Steve’s space before shoving a hand on his chest. He staggers at the force of it, actually landing hard on his ass. They stare at each other, Tony with his eyes wide with shock as he looks down at Steve, probably not expecting him to fall down at all because of his size.

“Bucky, I need to see Bucky. Please.” Steve says hoarsely, looking back at the younger man.

“Shit. What the _fuck_ happened?” The rage was gone, replaced by incredulity. He turns sideways, looking at the closed door on the hallway, presumably Bucky’s.

“I…I don’t—he, he kissed me.” Steve answers in auto-mode; still reeling with the realization as he slumps on the floor.  
Tony opens his mouth, closes it and lets out a weary sigh. “Okay, I don’t know why that’s provoking this kind of reaction. So let me rephrase that, _what the fuck happened_?”

Steve lets out an anguished sound, grabbing his hair in frustration. “I don’t know! I don’t… _he_ kissed _me_. I don’t understand!”

“What? What do you mean you don’t understand? You can’t be that dense.”

He glares at the younger man. “I know you’re smart, Tony. But that doesn’t make me stupid.” Standing up, he crosses his arms on his chest, trying not to look as small as he feels.

“Really? Explain this then!” He gestures to Bucky door, looking angry again. “Tell me why he’s running away from you.”

Steve falters, his eyes on the closed door. The answer doesn’t come to him at the moment, only the memory of the dimness of Bucky’s eyes earlier. His shoulders hunch as if in physical pain.

Tony sighs again. “I can’t believe this. It makes perfect sense now.” He says, making Steve hunch even more in anguish.

“What does?” He asks, swallowing his useless pride as he looks at Tony for answers.

“That you’re a complete idiot.” Tony says immediately, his brown eyes hard as he stares at him.

“ _Please_ , Tony.” Steve would beg if that’s what Tony wants.

It works. The hardness in his eyes easing slightly. “Take a guess. The easiest one. Tell me why he kissed you in the first place.” He says, looking at him meaningfully.

Steve hesitates, his mind whirling with possibilities. One stands out more than most, if only it wasn’t too good to be true. “It’s not possible.” He says weakly. “I’m just projecting. I know Bucky doesn’t…it’s _not possible_.” He repeats, voice cracking halfway.

Tony looks possibly livid. “Oh Jesus. I was right.” He says despairingly. “I need a drink. You need a drink. Come on.”

Steve feels defeated, looking at the door while Tony drags him away, muttering impolite things under breath.

“I can’t believe I’m the one who talking you out of your ass. I’m supposed to be the deranged one in this band of merry men. God, I need _a lot_ of drinks.” He rants on, grabbing Steve by his biceps and bodily ushering him downstairs.

Steve’s too tired to protest, still trying hard to process everything in his head. He thinks he might throw up.


End file.
